


endless

by regionals



Series: Joshler QAF!AU [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Cancer, Cancer Arc, Comfort Sex, Daddy Kink, Depression, Dick!Brendon, Drug Addiction, HIV/AIDS, Hate Crimes, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Not Ryan/Ryden Friendly, P - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Phone Sex, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Substance Abuse, Versatile!Josh, Versatile!Tyler, its a low key daddy kink though, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 172,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regionals/pseuds/regionals
Summary: Tyler is the one night stand who never left and Josh is a stubborn and misunderstood asshole who gets a lot more than he asked for.[no longer updated, but will be finished. check series for more info.]





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> i said i wasnt gonna post this but here i am

**Endless – Part I**

**(Chapters 1-9)**

**last update: 11/5/17**

_**I smushed the first nine chapters into one part because, to be frank, 54 chapters is excessive and unnecessary. I plan on doing this with the rest of the fic as well. The smushing together is based on where the plot's at, so some parts will definitely be longer or shorter than others. Part one rests around 28,000 words.** _

_**There aren't any differences in the writing now than there was in the original parts, aside from grammatical, spelling, and continuity fixes. IF, BY CHANCE, YOU NOTICE ANY ERRORS THAT I DIDN'T CATCH, PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME ON TUMBLR @[CREION](http://tumblr.com/blog/creion). ** _

_**And as for the original note that was at the beginning of this fic:** _

_**This fic is an AU that is heavily based on the US version of Queer As Folk, but the plot varies here and there. IE certain things are changed, and when a character could've gone and done one thing, they choose to do something else, and that's kind of how this works. This fic is set in the early 2000's, so please try to keep in mind that 2000 was almost twenty years ago, and that things have changed since then.** _

_**Since this note is getting lengthy, I'm going to cut it off.** _

_**-regionals** _

\---

Josh finds himself zoning out the second Brendon starts griping at him in the same way his own mother used to gripe at him when he was a teenager. He has his keys in his hand, and he's about to unlock his car when he catches sight of the person who he decides is going to be his next trick, standing across the street, looking a little lost and a little confused. Josh himself is unaware of what he's about to be getting himself into by approaching the obviously younger man. Or boy, rather. All Josh knows is that he's _hot,_ and that it's enough for him.

Josh strides across the street, continuing to ignore Brendon, towards the boy, and as caramel macchiato eyes meet beautiful hazel, Josh finds himself speaking before his head has a chance to catch up with him. "You doin' anything special tonight?" Josh is being told to worry about something other than getting his dick sucked, and on some level he wants to listen to that, but on many other levels, he, unfortunately, likes to take care of his dick.

The boy in front of him shifts back and forth on his feet a little bit before he's looking Josh dead in the eyes, responding with, "Not really, no. I was just, uh, checking out some of the bars. Poppers, Neptune's, The Gala; you know." He shrugs, and Josh wants to laugh at how bad his bluff is.

"Neptune's? You don't really strike me as the leather daddy type." There's a trademark smirk spreading across Josh's features, which, to the boy, seem to be crafted by the gods.

It's taking everything in Josh not to actually call the kid out on his bluff when he just says, "Sure," in an unsure tone.

"How would you feel," Josh starts as he bends down, letting his slightly chapped lips graze the shell of the boy's ear. His voice drops in volume as he finishes his question, sounding perfectly seductive and tempting, "if I made your night a little more special?"

The, "I'm up for it," is all Josh needs to be making a smug face before leading the way back to his car, an arm around the kid's shoulders, still ignoring Brendon, who is now joined by Pete—both of whom are throwing insults his way and calling him an asshole as he's getting into his car. (Needless to say, Josh was a little (a lot) tweaked, and probably shouldn't have been driving, but he reasons with himself that his apartment is only a few blocks away, and that it doesn't matter.)

\---

Brendon slips back into Atlantis, the nightclub, with Pete, asking, "You know where Patrick is?"

Pete raises his voice so that Brendon can hear him above the music as he responds. "I saw him go into the backroom with someone, so I'd assume he's probably in there getting his dick sucked or getting tweaked. Maybe both. Who knows."

Brendon groans and crosses his arms as he leans back against the bar, waiting for Pete to finish ordering himself another beer. Brendon would be drinking, but it's his turn to be the designated driver, meaning he needs to make sure everyone gets home safe. He leans over to Pete once the man has another beer in his hand, close enough so he can hear him when he half shouts, "He needs to hurry up. I need to be up for work, and I also need to get both of you home since _someone_ fucking left already."

"Quit worrying about Josh, dude." Pete rolls his eyes. "He's twenty nine. He can take care of himself, so quit making yourself responsible for him."

Brendon, quite frankly, looks offended. "He's my best friend! I have a right to worry about him, so _fuck off."_

"I'm not arguing—I'm just saying that, perhaps, you should worry about yourself for once, y'know? Let him fuck his own damn life up."

"Speak for yourself!" Brendon scoffs and gets Pete in the arm with his fist. "You're the one who's always picking up the pieces every time Patrick gets his heart broken."

"Fair, _but,_ Patrick isn't an emotionless prick who only cares about himself, and _he_ doesn't walk all over me." Pete gives Brendon a pointed look, taking a rather... sassy sip from his beer.

"Well, I've been friends with Josh since we were twelve. I don't know what you expect."

"For you to get your own life?" Pete retorts with that before stalking off, probably to go retrieve Patrick, only sticking up his middle finger when Brendon shouts, _"Fuck you!"_ at him.

\---

Tyler follows the older man to the elevator in his apartment complex, then follows him into his apartment, dying of anticipation the entire time. He has no idea what's going to happen, or how, but he's excited, given he's a horny sevente--wait, no, he means _twenty one_ year old. He's definitely not underage. Nope.

Tyler lingers in the doorway when the man actually steps into his apartment, because, hey, even though he's excited, he's still a little apprehensive. He only has about ten seconds to internally bicker with himself, though, because the guy is speaking as he peels his clothes off, staring with his shirt. "Are you coming or going, man?" Tyler can only watch him, barely managing to not choke on his spit, because, _holy shit,_ he's _hot._ Within a minute the guy is nude, and pretty much just presenting himself as if he were a meal, and if Tyler were a hungry patron. "Or..." His face flashes with _something,_ "... are you coming and _staying?_ Possibly coming and then _going?"_

Tyler's eyebrows shoot up and his jaw drops open because, let's be real, this guy _really_ is the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. Tyler feels as if God has given him a glimpse of paradise, at least if paradise were a six-foot-four man with fluffy brown hair, combed back, of course, beautiful brown eyes, a bear that looks softer than it probably is, not to mention his chiseled and toned body. Tyler also got a glimpse of his ass, and, yeah, alright— _holy shit._ This man is definitely worthy of a _holy shit._ Tyler is dying to touch him.

 _'You know... I'm going to sleep with him anyways, so I may as well take advantage of this situation,'_ Tyler thinks to himself as he fully steps into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He peels his jacket off, leaving it on the floor behind him, and kicks his shoes off on his way over to the man. He places a tentative hand on the guy's chest, brushing his thumb over one of his pectoral muscles, before looking up into his eyes, which, truly, are very beautiful, and saying, "I'll stay," in a decisive tone.

The man grins for a second, and says, "Good," before he's sliding his hands up Tyler's shirt, kissing him deeply and passionately and, alright, Tyler is a touch overwhelmed, but, _god,_ he's so excited for this. So. Fucking. Excited.

He lifts his arms as the man pulls his shirt off, and finds his cheeks turning a lovely cherry shade at the sly little comment of, "Cute," that the man drops as he's pulling the shirt off. Tyler doesn't get much longer to think ab out the comment, though, because lips are on his again, and, alright, okay, maybe almost every fiber of his being is screaming at him to go home before he gets in trouble or something, that he shouldn't be doing this, that he should go back to being the good little Christian boy his mother raised him to be, but the part of him that's telling him to go get laid is a pretty goddamn influential part of him.

Tyler's just about to ask the man for his name, but he beats him to the punch, saying, "I'm Josh, by the way," before hooking fingers into Tyler's belt loops, and tugging him in the direction of another room, probably a bedroom. Tyler loses the rest of his clothes on the way to that room, somehow, aside from his underwear, which he ends up just tossing across the room before he's being backed against a bed.

"I'm Tyler."

\---

Tyler's a mess, and once the man, Josh, gets to work on him, it doesn't take him very long to be reduced to a moaning and whimpering... well, y'know, _mess._ Josh is kissing him, more gentle and less aggressive than he had been previously, with one hand caressing Tyler's right hip, and the other on the back of his head.

Josh moves his head to where his lips are barely an inch from Tyler's so he can ask, "Do you top or bottom?"

Tyler thinks the answer should be pretty obvious, but still ends up fumbling, trying to act _cool,_ saying, "Uh—top. And bottom."

Josh sucks on Tyler's bottom lip for a brief moment, pulling him right back into another intoxicating kiss before letting loose with his response. "So, you're versatile, yeah?"

Tyler just nods, going along with whatever it is Josh wants him to go along with. He's hard and he is so goddamn desperate right now. "Yeah, uh, versatile."

"Good," Josh tells him; "because I top."

"That's—that's nice," Tyler's voice cracks in the middle of that, and he hears Josh sigh before pulling away fully, and giving him a calculative look.

"Are you a _virgin?"_ He really sounds wholly unimpressed.

Tyler wasn't expecting that question, but he answers accordingly. "Yeah, I am. This, uh... This is _kind of_ my first."

\---

Tyler winces and lets out a squeak when Josh is starting to push his cock into Tyler’s tight hole. “J-Josh, can—can you slow down? Please?”

Josh nods, looking oddly sympathetic. Or, well, maybe it’s not odd, but Tyler’s not sure. He gets an apathetic sort of vibe from this guy, but his train of thought derails when he feels one of Josh’s large hands gently caressing his hip.

“Does it always hurt?” Tyler asks after Josh pauses for a few moment to allow Tyler to adjust.

Josh shrugs, running hands up and down Tyler’s abdomen. “A little bit. That’s a part of it, though.”

“And is lube always that cold?”

Aaand now Josh rolls his eyes. “You’re full of questions, babe. It warms up. Trust _ _me.”__

For some odd reason, Tyler  _ _does__ trust Josh. He literally met him on the streets not more than an hour ago, but he  _ _trusts__ him. He’d taken his sweet time working Tyler open with his fingers, and he’s being as slow as molasses while bottoming out.

Once he does bottom out, Tyler squeaks out a, “God, you’re so  _ _big,”__ his voice cracking on the word ‘god.’

Josh only gives him his trademark smirk in response before remarking, “And you’re tight,” right back at him.

“I’m a virgin. I can’t help it.”

Tyler flushes red at Josh’s next statement, which is something he didn’t think was possible, given he’s been about the shade of a tomato since he stepped into Josh’s apartment. “Not anymore.” Josh starts thrusting,  _ _slowly,__ saying, “Every time you’re with someone else after this, I want you to remember tonight, and I want to be the one you think about every single time you’re getting fucked,” and punctuating it with his thrusts.

Tyler squeezes his eyes shut, and bites on his lip, trying to hold back a moan, but his attempts are in vain, because he lets out probably the most embarrassing noise  _ _ever__ because Josh angles his hips  _ _just right,__ leaving Tyler writhing just a bit, asking, “What the  _ _fuck__ was that?"

“It’s called your prostate, sweetheart,” Josh mutters as an explanation as he starts building up a rhythm.

Tyler gasps slightly at the pet name, and he’s repeating a mantra of, ‘oh god,’ and ‘fuck fuck fuck,’ with every thrust and every flick of Josh’s wrist. He digs his nails into Josh’s back at some point, and pulls him closer, capturing his lips in a passionate yet poorly executed kiss.

The pace Josh is fucking into him with picks up considerably over time, both of them moaning, creating a symphony of love. Okay, not a symphony, since there’s two of them, and since Josh is being a little quiet, and definitely not love, since they’ve only known each other for like an hour, but it’s definitely a two man band singing about lust. Things don’t get to go on for much longer, though, before Tyler’s muttering, “I’m close,” for a second time, following it with, “so fucking close, Josh,  _ _fuck,__ please,  _ _harder!”__

Josh can’t help but to comply to him, pulling out almost all of the way, then slamming back in. Not quite slamming, since he doesn’t want to hurt Tyler, but he’s going pretty fast, and he’s hitting Tyler’s prostate dead on with every single thrust and shift of his hips, making it his personal goal to absolutely ruin the  boy beneath him.

Tyler lets out another loud moan when Josh takes hold of his cock, jerking it quickly, saying, “Come for me, baby boy.”

Similar to being called ‘sweetheart,’ Tyler’s melting, and he comes, harder than he ever has before, with a shout, moaning Josh’s name and trembling for a good minute or so afterward while Josh milks him through it. That minute felt more like two hours to Tyler, and it’s  _ _magic__ _ _.__

__\---_ _

_Josh wakes up the next morning having to peel an arm from around his chest. Great._ __Must’ve been more tweaked than I thought. I let him stay over._ _ _He gets up, groaning slightly at the pounding in his head._ __Fucking Saporta. That shit wasn’t ecstasy. Probably some fucking cocktail he whipped up in his apartment. Fucker._ _

Josh walks through his apartment, groaning even more at the  _ _mess. Yeah, that shit definitely wasn’t E. Looks like a fucking tornado hit my apartment.__ Josh mutters, “Why do I do these things…?” under his breath, not expecting an answer, then jumping out of alarm when he does get one that’s accompanied by a quiet yawn.

“That’s why you shouldn’t take drugs that aren’t prescribed by a doctor.”

“Thanks, Public Service Announcement. You need to go home.” Josh walks around… the kid, whose name he forgot again, as he heads back towards his bedroom.

He stops dead in his tracks, though, when the kid is saying, “Uh… I can’t go home.”

Josh snaps his head towards him. “Pardon?”

“My parents think I’m at a friend’s.”

“Parents? You live with your parents?”

The kid nods, and follows Josh when he starts walking again. “I’m a sophomore in college.”

“Uh-huh.” Josh grunts at him, and wants to groan when he’s followed into the master bathroom. He doesn’t have the energy, though. The kid also smells a little rank, probably from sweating, so he can’t really protest too much.  Despite the obvious charm of the scent, the smell of sex isn’t that attractive when you’re not about to fuck someone. “How old are you?”

“Twenty one.”

“What year were you born?” Now, Josh is stepping into his shower, and he’s looking down at the kid, amusement playing across his features.

“Uh. Nineteen… seventy nine.”

“Bullshit. You had to think. How old are you  _ _really?”__

“Twenty.”

“Liar.”

“Nineteen.”

Josh gives him a look.

“Eighteen?”

“This isn’t a missile launch.”

Finally, sounding defeated, he says, “Seventeen.”

Josh sighs, loudly. “Christ. What is it with kids these days?”

“I just wanted to get laid, just like everyone else, dude.”

“Uh-huh.” Josh makes a face for a split second before grabbing his razor, and turning to the mirror hanging in his shower. “You need a ride to school?”

“If it’s not too much trouble…?”

Josh sighs a little bit. “I suppose it’s not.”

The kid whines like a child when Josh takes his razor to his beard. “Aw, man, why are you shaving the beard? It’s  _ _hot.”__

“I look like a lumberjack. Anyways, I have work. My boss has been hounding me to shave it for a few weeks.” Josh mutters the last part, and the kid just watches, in awe, as Josh goes from a self proclaimed lumberjack to a chiseled god, looking even more beautiful than he even thought possible. Josh catches the look on his face, and questions him while making eye contact through the tiny mirror. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You, uh, you look different.”

“I look hot, don’t I?” Josh’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Uh, yeah. That. Definitely that.”

\---

Brendon sighs to himself as he slips into Josh’s apartment complex, and spends the twenty second elevator ride to the top floor yawning. He walks up to Josh’s apartment door, and knocks twice, before walking in, shouting, “Josh! I need a ride to work!”

Brendon doesn’t get a response, so he rolls his eyes, muttering, “Fucking asshole,” under his breath before walking to Josh’s bedroom. He gets an eyeful of the kid from the night before straddling the older man, Josh with a hand down the back of the kids underwear, and the kid with his fingers in Josh’s hair. “Didn’t the two of you get enough last night? Ugh. Also, Josh, did you hear me?”

“I’m not deaf, Brendon. Just—look--kids these day need a high protein breakfast, y’know?” Josh looks around the kid’s head, and shrugs at Brendon.

The kid giggles and throws a smirk over his shoulder at Brendon, who looks frustrated.

“Shut up, Josh.”

“I’ll take you to work after I get  _ _this one,”__ he smacks the kid’s ass, “to school.” The kid climbs off of Josh’s lap so Josh can get up to get dressed.

Brendon scoffs sharply.  _“_ _ _School?__ How old is he?”

The kid answers for him. “Seventeen.”

“Josh, for fuck’s sake—”

“What? He’s seventeen. The age of consent is sixteen.”

“Do you even know his name?” Brendon cocks his hip and gives Josh a pointed look.

Josh racks his brain for a few moments, and avoids eye contact with everyone in the room as he slips on a pair of slacks.

Dejectedly the kid answers with, “It’s Tyler.”

“You  _ _fucked him__ and you didn’t even know his  _ _name?__ Oh my god,” is what Brendon mutters under his breath in an incredulous tone.

Josh rolls his eyes. “I don’t know the names of half the guys I fuck, Brendon. Get off my back.”

\---

“Faggot!” Some kid shouts this at Tyler from across the front lawn of Tyler’s school as he’s getting out of Josh’s car.

Josh pokes his head out of his window, a fierce look on his face. “Watch your fucking tongue, or I’ll kick your tight little virgin ass, alright?”

The kid is embarrassed, and Tyler giggles. He bends down to where he’s eye level with Josh, and gets away with kissing him before asking, “When can I see you again?”

Josh lets out a quick and sharp breath through his nose. “In your dreams, kid.” He pulls Tyler into one more quick kiss, and after that, Josh pulls out from his parking space so he can drop Brendon off at work.

\---

“Give me  _ _one__ good reason as to  _ _why__ I shouldn’t kick your fucking ass,” Ashley starts the second she gets her eyes on Tyler.

“I’m cute and sensitive?” He supplies, not at all helpfully.

“That isn’t good enough. Where were you last night? Your  _ _mom__ called my cell, and I didn’t know what to tell her because I haven’t seen you outside of school since summer break ended! At least give me a heads up when you need someone to cover for you!”

Tyler makes a face. “I was with someone.”

 _“_ _ _With__ someone?” Now, Ashley is curious, and she’s examining Tyler carefully to make sure he isn’t lying.

“Yep. I was with a man.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Nope. We fucked for, like, two hours, Ash. It’s a miracle I can even  _ _walk.”__

“Did it  _ _hurt?”__ Her eyes are wide and she’s so,  _ _so__ curious.

“At first, yeah. I mean… he was so gentle with me, Ash. He was acting rough until he found out I was a virgin, but after that everything just  _ _changed,__ and he got all gentle and sweat. God, I know it was only a night, but, like, I’m pretty sure I love him.”

“Right, right.” Ashley snorts. “What’s his name?”

“Joshua Dun, and he’s a fucking  _ _god.”__ Tyler sighs, wistfully.

__\---_ _

_Tyler finds himself on Independence Avenue a week later, this time on a Saturday, so he doesn't have to worry about school. For the most part, he's in search of Josh, or at least someone to cop some weed from. It just depends on which one he manages to do first._

Tyler slips into one of the bars, and manages to get away with making himself at home on one of the bar stools. He hits on the bartender, and to show for it, he gets a watered down beer. It's better than nothing, he supposes, and he's sipping at it, not paying very much attention to his surroundings, when the guy who'd showed up at Josh's apartment, yelling about a ride to work, walks up to him, and nudges him in the shoulder. "What are you doing here? Didn't you get enough last week?"

Tyler rolls his eyes a little bit before turning to look the guy in the eye. "I was kind of hoping to see Josh. Not that it's any of your business, of course." Tyler shrugs, and takes another sip of his beer.

"Check Atlantis. It's a gay dance club a few blocks away. Pretty nondescript on the outside, but there's usually a bit of a line, and you can hear the music from outside. He tends to be there on the weekends. Though... you shouldn't associate yourself with him." The guy adds the last part with a bit of a mutter.

"And why not?" Tyler raises an eyebrow.

"He's not a nice person." That raises a red flag in Tyler's head. Not about Josh, but about this guy. "You're just going to end up heartbroken and disappointed."

"What's your name?" Tyler tilts his head a little bit, and squints.

"It's Brendon." The guy, Brendon, seems slightly confused, probably wondering why Tyler asked him what his name was seemingly out of nowhere.

"Thanks, Brendon." Tyler rolls his eyes, making sure Brendon can see this time, and slams back the rest of his beer before he's stepping out of the bar, and asking someone for directions to the dance club the man had told him about.

\---

Tyler tries bluffing his way into the club, but one of the bouncers catches on, catches on to the fact that he's underage, and Tyler... He's self aware. He knows he's attractive in that cute, innocent, twink way, and he uses it to his advantage, ending up on his knees behind the building, blowing one of the bouncers, just to get into the club.

Once he's actually inside, he looks around for a few minutes, before he spots Josh. The two of them make eye contact, and Tyler's pretty sure that he says,  _"Shit,"_ under his breath, given the way his lips had moved, and the look on his face.

Tyler starts heading towards him, naively hopeful, smiling even, but Josh grabs his arm, and drags him right back outside of the club to talk to him. They're outside of earshot of anyone who might hear them, and Josh basically hisses, "Are you  _stalking_ me?"

Tyler frowns, and shakes his head. "No. I just—I was kind of hoping we could, um, see each other again...?"

"Didn't you hear me last week? I said  _no._ Look, kid—what we did? That was just a quick fuck. It wasn't love, or whatever the fuck else you're telling yourself it was. We aren't boyfriends, we aren't in love, and we don't  _have_ anything. Anyways, let's face it--I've already had you, so get out of here, you little shit."

Tyler isn't making eye contact with Josh anymore, and he's a little... shocked. It doesn't take him too long to be turning around and walking away from him. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes, and, alright, it's not as if he's heartbroken or anything, but his feelings are hurt. That's just about all it is.

For the most part, he hadn't convinced himself that he had anything more with Josh, but the tone that the older man had taken with him had managed to cut pretty deeply into his sensitive and delicate little soul.

He waits until he's out of Josh's line of sight before he's pulling his wallet out, and counting the change in it. He has forty bucks, and he decides that he's going to get something to eat.

It takes another few blocks of walking before he sees a diner named after the avenue. He finds it a little funny, so he steps inside, and looks around. The entire place is plastered with rainbows and posters, and there's plenty of obviously gay men and women in the restaurant, or diner, rather, eating their meals. A few of the men give him predatory looks, but he ignores them.

Tyler takes a seat at the counter, and the waiter currently working the graveyard shift steps behind the counter, and walks over to where he's standing in front of where Tyler's sitting so he can take his order. He's a peculiar looking guy. He's built like a brick shit house, has teeth that are just a little too white, his hair is darker than anything Tyler's ever seen, and his eyes—they're green, and they look far too receptive for his liking.

"Uh," Tyler starts, dumbly, as he glances up at the menu on the wall behind the man, whose name tag reads Pete. "A hamburger, but without the onion, and preferably without mustard. Please. Also..." Tyler looks around for a second, to make sure no one's listening, before he finishes with, "Do ya think I could order a beer too?"

"If you can show me an ID to verify you're over twenty one, then yeah, I can," comes his even and smooth response. "And I'm not saying it has to be a real one," he says this, quieter than last time. "I was a teenager once too, so I feel you. I just can't give you a drink without an ID."

Tyler sighs and makes a bit of a face. "I don't have an ID."

"I'll give you a number to call if you want a fake one. Anyways—hamburger, hold the onion and the mustard, and would you like anything to drink, besides a beer?"

Tyler thinks for a minute, and scans the drinks menu again. "Eh, fuck it. How about a chocolate milkshake?"

The guy, Pete, repeats his order back to him again, just to confirm it's correct, and says, "Coming right up, man," before he's hanging the ticket up for the chef to look at. He stalks back over to the counter, and makes himself look busy, wiping down cups and stacking them neatly. "Aren't you the guy Josh picked up last week?"

Tyler nods, slowly. "Uh. Yeah. I, uh, kind of came back here to, like, see if I could see him again, but he, very rudely, turned me down." Tyler explains the gist of what Josh had told him, and Pete winces a little bit.

"You look young, and like you don't want some thirty something year old's advice about someone you shouldn't really even be looking at in the first place, but you need to avoid Josh. He's an asshole, and he's selfish. He doesn't care about anyone but himself, and maybe Brendon, but even then, he treats Brendon like shit half the time. He doesn't do boyfriends, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was incapable of caring for anyone. Feel free to push your luck, but that's just my two cents."

Tyler frowns. "How come everyone thinks he's emotionless? That Brendon guy—he told me the same thing earlier, basically. Said Josh wasn't a good person. Why does everyone think that?"

"I've known him since he was eighteen, and he's twenty nine now. Brendon's known him since he was twelve. I've been around him long enough to know that Brendon's right—he's not a good person, at least not the kind of person that someone like you needs to be involving himself with."

Tyler doesn't say anything else after that. He appreciates the concern, but he just finds it odd, how Pete and Brendon talk about Josh.

\---

Another week passes, and Josh finds himself at Atlantis again. Alright, alright, he's there almost every night, but this night, specifically, is interesting.

Brendon meets a guy, and although Josh isn't getting a very good feeling from the guy, he still gives Brendon a shit eating look, because it's not really his problem. He doesn't care about the baby faced thirty five year old hitting on his best friend when there's a certain seventeen year old grinding up on some other guy out on the floor.

Josh watches them for awhile, stewing. He's a little butt hurt, but he's not jealous. He was half expecting Tyler to be fawning over  _him,_ staring at  _him_ in awe, admiring from afar,  _pining,_ but right now, he's not. He's just letting some guy grab his ass through his jeans.

Josh hears a voice in his ear at some point, one belonging to Brendon, saying, "I'm ducking out to go get laid, but  _please_ tell me you aren't considering taking him home again. What happened to the 'never more than once' rule?"

Josh rolls his eyes and shoves Brendon away. "It's none of your fucking business. Go be jealous somewhere else."

 _"Jealous?_ Fuck you, Josh." Josh gets whacked upside the head, and Brendon's gone before he can do anything about it.

\---

Tyler, honestly, isn't expecting the guy behind him to get shooed off, only to be replaced by Josh. "What are you doing here again?"

"Trying to get fucked because I'm horny," He answers, bluntly. Tyler figures holding his ground with Josh might be a good way to start. "Is it any of your business?" Tyler turns around, looking up at Josh. He has to basically crane his neck to look up at the man, since he only goes up to his shoulders.

"I guess not," Josh replies with a shrug.

"Don't you have someone else to fuck? I thought you were done with me."

"I'm not having any luck, and we all know you're infatuated." Josh is teasing him, and Tyler just rolls his eyes and turns around again. Josh is somehow smooth about wrapping his arms around Tyler's waist, pulling him back far enough to where his ass is pressing against the hard-on in Josh's leather pants as he plants a kiss onto the boy's neck.

"You're presumptuous," Tyler comments, hopefully coming off as annoyed. "Why should I sleep with you again?"

"Why not? You're hot, I'm hot, and you're not a half bad lay."

Tyler considers the offer for a few moments, already knowing he's going to say yes, but he just—he doesn't want to come off as desperate. "It's tempting."

"Yeah? Then how about it?"

"Alright, fine." Tyler's turning around once again, and places his hands on Josh's shoulders so he can ask, "Do you want to go back to your place, or...?"

"There's a bathroom."

 _A bathroom. He wants to fuck me in a bathroom. What a fucking asshole. A hot, gorgeous, dreamy, irresistible asshole._ "Lead the way, then." Tyler's still trying to come off as, like, not desperate, and as if he isn't internally freaking out. "Do you have a condom on you."

"And lube. Who do you think I am?"

"I think you're a dick."

"Gee, thanks." Josh rolls his eyes, and takes Tyler by the hand, leading him towards a bathroom. He throws up a middle finger at Brendon, who gives him a dirty look from his spot near the bar.

In the bathroom, there's a sign, reading, "Bathrooms aren't meant for sex or drugs," and Tyler points it out as he's getting backed into a stall by Josh, who is saying, "Who cares? Everyone's in here fucking their brains out or getting tweaked every night anyways. It's just there as a formality."

Tyler still feels a little uneasy, afraid of getting in trouble, but he tells himself to get over it when Josh is kissing him. The kiss is a little rough, and Tyler can  _smell_ the alcohol on Josh, not to mention taste it. The man doesn't seem very inebriated, but he isn't too sure. He doesn't care at the moment, though. He can also smell cigarettes, and he's pretty sure he smells weed, and for some reason, he  _really_ likes how Josh smells.

Tyler feels himself going pliant under Josh's hands, which are big and strong, and he complies easily when he's being turned around.  _"I guess he isn't one for foreplay,"_ Tyler thinks to himself as Josh is tugging his jeans down to the middle of his thighs. Preemptively, Tyler leans forward a little bit, hands planted flat on the wall in front of him.

He turns his head to see Josh opening a packet of lube, and the man makes eye contact with him, asking, "You alright?"

Tyler just nods, saying, "Yeah," because he is, honestly. The last time he had sex with anyone was when he met Josh for the first time, and that experience was, obviously, fucking great. Oddly enough, Tyler trusts Josh not to hurt him this time either, and he feels as if his trust  _isn't_ misplaced, especially when Josh makes sure he has explicit consent before sliding a finger in.

Tyler grunts a little bit, and tries not to melt too much when he feels Josh's other hand running up the back of his shirt. He doesn't know if it's just a thing Josh does, or if it's, like, a gesture of affection or something, but he still likes the contact, alright?

Josh works him up to two fingers, then three, and by the time he's pulling them out for good, Tyler's  _desperate,_ and trying not to make any noise, aside from a whispered, "Josh, please," here and there.

Josh hushes him a little bit, and Tyler almost moans when he hears a condom wrapper opening. He ends up with Josh's hand over his mouth as the man fucks him. Josh whispers filthy things into his ear, absolute  _sin,_ and Tyler swears he's never been this turned on before. Like, who knew that getting fucked in a disgusting bathroom at a gay dance club could be so... arousing?

Tyler's biting a few of Josh's fingers by the time he's coming,  _barely_ holding back a few moans, legs trembling and hands grasping for purchase on the tiled wall they've been on. Tyler's panting, out of breath by the time Josh has finished, and they stay there for a few minutes, Josh with his head pressed against the back of Tyler's shoulder, eventually pressing a few kisses to the back of the boy's neck.

He pulls out eventually, and he tries to be as quick and as neat as possible about getting the condom off and tossing it into the toilet, along with the wrappers for both the condom and the lube. He's also quick about getting his pants pulled up and buttoned.

Tyler's still breathing heavily, still trying to gather himself, and he feels slightly embarrassed but not really when Josh is pulling his (Tyler's) underwear up, and his pants. He grabs Tyler by the arms and makes him stand up and turn around so he can buckle the boy's belt for him. "You alright?" Josh asks, voice almost a whisper. He gives Tyler an unguarded look, looking soft and concerned.

Tyler nods and lets out a breath. He does a vague gesture with his hand, and tries saying something. Josh only hears about a third of what he's saying until Tyler just cracks and asks, "Can I just... have a hug?"

Josh nods and gently tugs Tyler towards him. Tyler immediately wraps his arms around Josh's torso, and presses his face against the man's chest. Josh wraps his arms around Tyler, trying to make it a point to make it a  _good_ hug, especially when he runs his hand through Tyler's hair and kisses the top of his head. They stay like that for a few minutes and Josh makes an offer that he has  _never_ made to anyone before. "Do you need a place to sleep tonight?" He's a little caught off guard by Tyler's sudden vulnerability, so he figures that's why he's suddenly concerned.

Tyler detaches himself and shakes his head. "I, uh, was gonna dick around for another hour or so, then catch a bus back to my neighborhood."

"You sure? You, uh, you seemed upset or something, and I kind of have this weird thing about wanting my sexual partners to be safe and all that shit." While that's true, Josh also mentally points out that he's never gone this far out of his way for anyone except for a few boyfriends he had in his early twenties.

_"I'm fine. Don't worry. Just trying to get used to the idea of casual sex is all."_

_\---_

_Tyler's life goes on for a few months, everything just the same as usual. He sneaks out at least once a week, sometimes twice, goes to bars, clubs, sees Josh once in a while, sees other men, then hits the diner to get something to eat and to bullshit with whoever is working the graveyard shift before he takes a bus home to crawl in through his bedroom window at some ungodly hour of the morning._

He usually gets a few hours of sleep in before he's being woken up again to go to school. If it's a weekend, though, he sleeps in. He always seeps in on the weekends. Unless, of course, it's this weekend specifically, because very bright and early on a Saturday, much to his disliking, his mother is nudging him awake, smiling at him as if she wasn't screaming at him the night before, looking somewhat excited, saying, "Tyler, we should go out for breakfast. Go get dressed."

Tyler groans, and rolls over, hoping she takes that as a no. He's tired and he's fucked out, courtesy of Josh. He needs at least another four hours to gather himself, but he knows his mom, and he knows that unless he wants to get yelled at and called names, he needs to get up.

Anyways, there's three people in the world more stubborn than Tyler is. First, it's his mother, then his father, then Josh. Though, with Josh, it's more or less an equal level of stubbornness, and Tyler's trying to work on that anyways.

It seems as if his life revolves around  _Josh_ right now. He's intrigued by the older man, to say the least, and, given some of the looks he catches Josh throwing his way, and given some of the things that Pete, and a few of Josh's other friends, have said to him, he figures it's safe to assume that Josh is at least a little interested in him as well. (The hickeys on his collarbones and thighs, and the way his ass aches in the mornings whenever he sees Josh are also pretty good indicators of the man's... interest. Tyler also supposes he should feel creeped out around Josh, given the man is almost thirty, and that he's seventeen, almost eighteen, but he doesn't.)

\---

Tyler takes a shower, and when he's walking back into his bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, he finds his mother looking at something with an almost mortified expression on her face. He doesn't figure out what it is until he's behind her, looking down at the  _Polaroids_ in her hands. They're Polaroids that Pete had snapped, mostly to annoy Josh, the one time Tyler had ran into him at the diner.

Josh had decided to sit across from Tyler for whatever reason, and he paid for Tyler's meal, so he didn't complain. Tyler was also flirting with Josh, along with trying to make conversation, and, apparently, they'd been eye fucking, or looking at each other lovingly (Brendon and Pete argued over it), so Pete decided to take a few pictures. Tyler likes the one where Josh is flipping the camera off, and Tyler himself was just sitting there, hiding his face, trying not to laugh too much, because, hey,  _Josh is so uptight._

"What are these?" She asks, quietly.

"They're, uh... pictures." Tyler snatches them from her hands after that. He doesn't want her to take them away. These pictures are important to him.

His mother is quiet for a moment, but eventually she asks, "Who is he?"

Tyler lies, saying, "Just a friend." Josh isn't his boyfriend, and they aren't together, but they meet up to fuck once in a while, and Josh buys him drinks at Atlantis and at a few of the bars. They don't know each other that well; all Tyler really knows about Josh is that he's an asshole, and all Josh knows about Tyler is that he's just some kid with a crush. It's not a deep relationship, if you could even call it that.

Tyler stuffs the photos into the binder he uses for school, and he places his backpack in such a way to where he'd be able to tell if anyone tampered with it. His mother knows that trick, of course, so it helps Tyler in getting away wit ha few things.

"I don't believe you."

"Alright. That's your problem then. I don't have to justify myself to you. I'm seventeen."

"You're still a minor, and you live in my house. You  _do_ have to justify yourself to me. Tell me who he is."

"We met at a, uh, restaurant Ash took me to a few months ago. He's just a friend that I talk to about things. I can trust him." Mostly a lie. Tyler does try talking to him sometimes, but mostly it's just him rambling, and offhand comments here and there. Usually, all Josh does in response to him is either respond with something smart, or with some sort of grunt.

Tyler's mother just makes a noise of acknowledgment before she's leaving the room to give Tyler some privacy while he gets dressed.

\---

Josh gets five minutes of alone time after a trick eaves his apartment before the door is getting knocked on, and he's repeating a mantra of,  _"Please don't be Tyler, please don't be Tyler,"_ under his breath.

Thankfully, for Josh, it isn't. It's just Brendon, who's holding up a paper bag, and wiggling his eyebrows a little bit.

"Better not be any of that dry ass shit that Saporta sells," Josh grumbles as he lets Brendon int his apartment.

"Nah. Copped some indica from the one short guy with the piercings and the weird hair. It ain't dry either."

Josh grunts, and pokes around his desk until he finds rolling paper, plus whatever else he needs to roll a joint, and he backtracks to the coat rack next to the door to get his lighter out of his pocket. As he's finally walking back into his living room, he points towards the windows lining one of the walls. "Go open them. Don't want to stink this place up."

While Josh is working on rolling a joint, he's saying, "Indica means we're going to have a talk."

Brendon looks over his shoulder. "Of course it does. I want to talk about that one guy I fucked a while back. The tall one with the baby face."

"What's there to talk about?" Josh looks up for a moment to give him a weird look. "You already told me that he's hung and that he's a good fuck. There honestly can't be anything more to it."

Brendon rolls his eyes. He done opening windows, just barely, and he's walking all the way back across Josh's living room to sit on the floor next to the man. "There's more to people than dick size, and there's more to relationships that sex. Anyways, just, look... I went on a few dates with him, right?"

"Mhm." Josh sounds disinterested, and, for the most part, he really  _isn't_ interested. Brendon's his best friend, though, so he figures he should at least pretend to listen.

Brendon waits to start talking until after he's had his first hit. He coughs a little bit as he starts saying, "Anyways, look... I went on a few dates with him, y'know? He's so kind, and nice, and charming. He's basically perfect. Also, he's  _rich._ Well, not rich, but he's comfortable."

"How comfortable?"

"Like, he could retire at thirty five and live comfortably for two lifetimes comfortable. Okay, I think that's an exaggeration, but he's, like, a stockbroker or something."

"It's the money. That's why you like him."  _Seems reasonable._

"It's not about the money. I didn't even know until a few days ago. It's just... he's so nice, you know? And—and we get along almost perfectly. I feel like I might have something with him."

"You shouldn't put him up on a pedestal. He's probably not as great as you're making him out to be."

Brendon snorts, and rolls his eyes. "Oh, can it. You hate  _everyone_ except for me and that kid. Are you  _jealous?"_

"I don't like that  _kid,_ and I ain't jealous." Josh elbows him.

Brendon sighs, sarcastically, and caresses Josh's face. "Don't you worry, Joshie. You're still the love of my life. It's just that I'm falling for someone else, alright? You're still my best friend."

Josh bats his hand away. "Get your hand off me, asshole. Also, you still owe me a few hundred from when I covered your bills a few months ago."

"Look, man, not everyone just happens to be an ad exec that makes millions each year." Brendon throws his arms up in defense.

"Hey, you told me the second that I got this job that you didn't want me treating you any differently because I had more money, so I'm not. Anyways, not everyone happens to work at a book store that pays for fucking shit."

"Topic change. Talk to me about the kid. Do you love him or something?"

Josh scoffs. "I don't  _love_ him. Shit, I don't even  _like_ him. I've only known him for a few months anyways. That's not enough time to  _love_ someone."

"So you admit that the possibility is there?"

"That's not what I said. Quit twisting my words. Look, contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely emotionless, alright? I'm capable of loving someone, but if I were to love someone  _like that,_ it wouldn't be him." Josh can feel a presence in his gut, the kind of presence he gets whenever he lies. He doesn't know why, though.

"Why not? He's cute and he's the only person on this planet besides me who likes you and who puts up with your shit. Anyways, he is  _so_ far up your ass."

"He is not up my ass, Brendon."

"Yes he is. He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky."

Josh rolls his eyes at Brendon for the millionth time, and changes the subject.

_I don't like Tyler like that. He's just some kid who needs to get his priorities straightened around._

\---

A week after Tyler's mother finds the Polaroids, Tyler's at a bar, a gay bar, with Josh and a few of Josh's friends. There's three bars on Independence avenue, and out of all of them, Vista has to be his favorite. It's not sleazy, or at least that sleazy, and the bartenders don't card. The only downside that Tyler can think of is that the air in the bar is thick with smoke every single night.

Tyler's sitting in a chair, next to Josh, scooted close enough to where he's comfortably tucked into the man's side, with one muscular arm around his slender shoulders. Josh banters playfully with Brendon, and Tyler's trying not to be too giddy, since this is one of the very,  _very_ rare occasions that Josh is affectionate with him in any capacity, besides after sex. (Josh can act like an asshole all he wants, but he's a firm believer in aftercare.)

Along with being giddy, Tyler's definitely giving everyone smug looks, as if to say,  _"I'm the favorite!"_

On the other side of the table sits Ryan, Brendon's current beau, and he's giving Josh dirty looks for whatever reason. It befuddles Tyler. He's used to  _Brendon_ being the insanely jealous type; not the typically mild-mannered thirty five year old that Brendon's been seeing.

On the side of Ryan that Brendon isn't on sits Pete, who's having a conversation with a guy that Tyler's only met a few times named Patrick.

Patrick's a super nice guy in Tyler's opinion. He's slightly misguided, but he's extremely nice. Tyler likes him and they get along pretty alright. Tyler wouldn't necessarily hang out with him on his own, but he'd trust the guy to save him if he were ever dangling off a cliff or something.

Patrick is a little peculiar looking, kind of like Pete. His hair is bleached blonde, and Tyler can tell that Patrick doesn't have a very thick head of hair. Along with  _that,_ he's lanky, and just about as skinny as Tyler is, which is saying something. He's not lanky in that teenager way, though; it's more in the unhealthy and desperate old queen trying to stay hot and youthful way. Tyler doesn't ridicule or judge him though, because, hey, Patrick apparently has a pretty active sex life. Can't knock a guy for getting laid, y'know?

Tyler gets dragged out of his thoughts by a quick peck on the lip from Josh, who says, "I have to go take a leak. You want anything from the bar?"

"A beer?" Tyler looks up at him and smiles a little bit.

Josh hesitates for a few seconds but he smiles back slightly, and once he's out of earshot, Pete's slowly asking, "What the fuck did you do to him?"

"Huh?" Tyler feigns innocence, and acts confused, taken aback. He knows exactly what Pete's getting at, but he likes playing dumb.

"What did you do to him? He's acting like a  _boyfriend,_ and in the twelve years I've known that man, not  _once_ have I seen him do anything more affectionate than a quick dude-hug."

Tyler shrugs. "No idea. He's probably just in a mood or something. I mean, most of the time he's about as tight lipped at a North Korean border. Anyways, he's not completely emotionless, y'know. Even Joshua William Dun, world's biggest asshole, has feelings."

Brendon makes a face at that, and Tyler calls him out on it.

"What's that face for, Urie?"

Patrick's the one who rolls his eyes with a sigh before  _he's_ taking one of Brendon's hands in his own, telling him, "It's okay to admit that you're jealous of Tyler. It's okay to be upset that you're not the only man in Josh's life anymore."

Tyler snorts and smirks a little bit when Brendon bats Patrick's hand away, and he bites his cheek at the pissy little look on Ryan's face. Of course, he calls Ryan out as well. "You too. What's  _that_ look for?"

"Oh, haven't you heard, Tyler?" Pete's tone is dripping with sarcasm as he looks to Ryan, then to Tyler. "Ryan doesn't like Josh, not one bit. He's afraid that Brendon's going to leave him for Josh."

Tyler snorts a little more obviously this time, and after Brendon's calling everyone an asshole, Josh is coming back to the table with a glass of scotch for himself and a bottle of Budweiser for Tyler. "Bar closes in fifteen, guys," he informs everyone as he's sitting back down.

Everyone groans.

Tyler sucks down the beer in record time, and he hold onto Josh's arm as the man is leading the way out of the bar. Everyone goes their own way, Tyler and Josh heading one direction, towards Josh's car, and everyone else heading toward their own respective cars.

Josh steals a few kisses from Tyler while they're walking, and manages to get one more before Tyler's getting into the car with a stupid grin on his face.

During the short ride to josh's apartment, where Tyler just assumes they're going to fool around, he decides to ask, "What was with you tonight?"

Josh, knowing full well what the boy had meant, just responds with, "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. You aren't stupid, Josh."  _He's so... weird. One minute he's acting like I'm the scum of the earth, treating me like I don't even exist, then the next minute he's all hugs and kisses, treating me like a prince. What's his deal?_ "I thought I was just a quick fuck."

Josh shrugs, and his face softens for a few seconds as he says, "You're alright to be around."

"You're alright to be around too, sometimes."

"'Sometimes.'"

"Don't act like you don't know that you act like an asshole. Y'know, I have a sneaking suspicion that you're actually just a huge teddy bear."

Josh's face hardens back up, and he snaps a little bit. "Do you want to go home with me or not?" It causes Tyler to giggle, and to lean across the console to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Josh jerks his head away, and gives Tyler a dirty look.

Tyler grins at him with all the sunshine in the world.

Josh's face falters for a second.

 _He should be mad at me. He shouldn't be smiling. How does he smile so much?_ Why  _does he smile so much?_

_\---_

_Typically, Josh is one for self gratification, and he’s not really one for giving, even during sex, but he really, really wants to watch Tyler fall apart. He likes the way the boy’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he tries to control his breathing, and he likes the way he bites at his lips until they’re red and raw and how he bites at whatever else is in biting distance of his mouth. He likes the way Tyler’s cheeks turn the prettiest ruby red color and how that ruby red color spreads from his cheeks all the way down his chest. He likes the way Tyler’s mouth drops open and the way his chest heaves whenever he’s about to shoot. He likes the way the boy’s thighs shake and quiver just from how sensitive he is, and he likes the way Tyler’s hands grip at whatever they can until his knuckles, his pretty, tan knuckles, turn white._

Present time, Tyler’s hands are balled up in Josh’s hair, and his grip is strong enough that Josh will genuinely be surprised if he even has any hair left by the end of the night. Josh is doing his best to give Tyler the blowjob of his life, sucking and licking at all the right times, drawing the prettiest noises from him. Josh, also, isn’t an idiot, and he knows what he, himself, likes when it comes to blowjobs, so he’s sure to pay a little extra attention to Tyler’s balls.

Josh does have to keep an arm over Tyler’s hip, of course, to hold them in place. Tyler has a tendency to try fucking Josh’s mouth. It’s not intentional, and Josh knows that, but he does, in fact, have a gag reflex, and he’d prefer to not either asphyxiate or vomit on Tyler mid-blowjob. (Added, Tyler’s dick isn’t  _small_ by any means.)

Things progress, and Josh pulls off of Tyler’s dick, reaching his arm towards his bedside table, and waving his hand a little bit, meaning for Tyler to grab whichever bottle of lube and whichever condom was nearest. Tyler takes his hands from Josh’s hair finally and obeys the unspoken request.

Josh sits up, and wipes his mouth off. As usual, he makes sure he has Tyler’s explicit consent before he starts getting to work on stretching him open with his fingers. He’s noticed that Tyler sort of likes to talk whenever they’re in the process of actually preparing to have full on penetrative sex, so he asks, “When do you turn eighteen?”

“Next Friday on the first.”

“Yeah? Huh.” Josh has two fingers in Tyler right now, not really  _doing_ anything with them, other than  _rubbing._ Tyler’s squirming slightly, since it feels  _good._ “You should come over on Friday. Find an excuse to be gone or something, because I like to make birthday sex a real treat.”

When Tyler looks up at Josh, the man winks, and Tyler rolls his eyes and grins a little stupidly. “Shut up, you goof. I’ll look into it, even though I’m assuming you just need an excuse to fuck me.”

Josh shrugs, eyebrows raised slightly on his forehead.

\---

_Knock knock knock._

Tyler groans a little bit, and after there’s a few more knocks, he looks over his shoulder to ask, “Aren’t you—aren’t you gonna go get the door?”

Josh shakes his head, and doesn’t falter in the slightest when it comes to the pace of his thrusts. “Whoever it is, they’ll go away eventually.”

Tyler just nods, trusting Josh’s judgment, and goes back to biting at one of Josh’s pillows. Everything feels so  _good_ and he’s self conscious about the noises he makes during sex; what can you do, y’know?

When the doorbell rings, Tyler hears Josh sigh. Tyler accidentally chooses the moment the door to the apartment opens to let out a bit of a moan, and Josh chooses that moment to groan, and to say, “Oh my god,” in a pissy tone.

“Why the fuck does he have a key?” Tyler grumbles as he shoos Josh away for a moment so he can roll over.

Josh gets the hint, gets that Tyler’s telling him to just get it over and done with so that Josh can go deal with Brendon. Before Josh actually does that, though, he just says, “He  _doesn’t_ have a key; he just knows where I keep my spare.”

“Talking about Brendon while we fuck is the number one way to make me lose my boner, so shut up.”

Josh snorts and smiles a little bit before bending down to kiss Tyler. He feels bad about cutting this short, because Josh really wanted to show Tyler a good time, like, better than normal, and he non-verbally expresses that after either of them have  _finished._

He takes a minute to catch his breath, and basically pets Tyler’s hair, kissing him gently. “I’ll be back ASAP, alright?” He gets up after this so he can get a pair of boxers from his underwear drawer.

Tyler nods meekly and yawns a little bit, saying, “Alright.”

“You, uh, you know where I keep my towels. You can take a shower or a bath or whatever if you want.”

\---

Josh finds himself saying, “Jesus, Urie—what the fuck happened?” as soon as he gets a glimpse of Brendon. The man is sitting on Josh’s couch, wiping at his eyes and sipping at a bottle of the stupid water Josh gets in the square bottles.

Brendon nudges a pair of pants, a pair that belongs to Tyler, Josh notices, off of the couch. Josh takes it as a hint to sit next to him. Brendon asks him if he has someone there with him, and he shrugs, saying, “Sort of. Why are you crying?”

“I had a shitty day at work,” He starts. He leans back, and lets his head fall back, and his eyes close. “I had a shitty day at work, and I was just—I was really looking forward to coming home and complaining about it to Ryan while he made dinner or something, but when I—when I walked in, he was fucking some other guy.” Brendon squeezes his eyes shut, and Josh feels a little bad for him. Just a little bit, though.

Josh gives him a sympathetic look, and pulls his best friend into a bit of a side-hug. “You should break up with him.”

“I love him,” he tries. “I really love him.”

“Okay, well, you may love him, but apparently he doesn’t love you as much as you thought he did, especially if he’s fucking other guys while you’re at work.”

“What the fuck am I going to do, though? He—he pays for  _everything._ He pays the bills, he fucking paid off my debt, and he’s the reason I’m not basically homeless right now. I can’t just  _leave_ him.”

“Move back in with Pete, or, if need be, you could stay here for a few months or something until you got back on your feet.”

“I ain’t living with you.” Brendon wipes his nose on his hand. “You work best when you live alone, and the last time we lived together it didn’t go very well.”

“I mean, it went alright for a while.”

“Yeah, but you suddenly got all weird and pissy a few months before you turned twenty four.” Brendon shrugs a bit. “Can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.” Josh feels as if he’s walking on eggshells around Brendon right now, afraid that if he makes even one wrong move, the man will lose it, and, like, do something totally drastic and unnecessary.  “I’ll grab a blanket and a few pillows.”

\---

Once Brendon is settled on the couch, Josh walks back into his bedroom, and crawls across his bed to straddle the back of Tyler’s thighs, and to run his hands up and down the now eighteen year old’s back. Tyler jerks awake, and gives Josh a groggy, dirty look from over his shoulder. “Why are you like this?”

“We didn’t get to finish properly.”

“Well, we got interrupted, and now I’m sleepy.”

“I mean, we’re alone now.”

“I know Brendon’s still here. Not fucking with him here, and I don’t think I have another round in me anyways. I  _will_ make a deal with you, though.” Tyler rolls over, and Josh moves to where he’s sitting next to him. “How about, in the morning, before I walk to the diner to get something to eat, we finish what we initially started.”

“Mm, I don’t know if I’ll be up for it,” Josh teases as he’s crawling under the blankets, subconsciously scooting towards Tyler.

“Oh, c’mon.” Tyler’s eyes aren’t open, but Josh knows he’s rolling them. “You’re  _always_ up for it. It honestly shocks me as to how you’re able to  _always_ have sex. Like, what the fuck, man?”

“I use sex as a coping mechanism to deal with all of the shitty things that’ve happened in my life.” Josh shrugs, and presses a kiss against the back of Tyler’s neck.

\---

Brendon wakes up a little too early for his liking the next morning, and decides that if  _he’s_ up, then  _Josh_ needs to be up, because, like, what’s the point of being awake if your best friend isn’t awake? He groggily makes his way to Josh’s room, and he’s about to step over to where Josh is laying to wake him up, but he stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees something.

The ‘something’ being Josh curled around Tyler almost protectively. He looks so  _at peace_ and  _comfortable_ and not at all tense like he usually is. He actually looks twenty nine for once in his life instead of, like, older than he actually is. Brendon isn’t sure what the fuck ever happened to Josh to just—to make him like this, to make him fucked up, but whatever it was, Tyler just—Tyler apparently makes him just  _forget_ it.

Brendon doesn’t like Tyler, and he’ll at least admit it to himself that it’s because he’s jealous of the boy, but right now he feels bad about being jealous. He thinks that, somehow, Tyler provides Josh with something he can’t, and Brendon really hates the fact that he’s the kind of dumb ass who falls in love with his best friend that he has absolutely no shot with whatsoever.

Brendon can’t pinpoint what it is about Tyler. Maybe it’s because Tyler isn’t inherently malicious like he tends to be. Brendon hasn’t ever heard Tyler utter the words out loud, but he knows that the boy adores Josh, maybe even loves him.

_God, they’ve only known each other for four months. Though, to be fair, I’ve only known Ryan for three months, and I was head over dick for him within one. Maybe whatever love they feel for each other is that kind of love that can’t really be helped. Maybe Josh just… needs someone who can love him unconditionally. I mean, I’m sure Tyler has his limits, but they’re a helluva lot farther out than mine are. Ugh._

\---

Tyler wakes up to the apartment door slamming shut, and figures that Brendon must’ve left. He rolls over, or at least tries to, but he realizes that Josh is pretty much clinging to him, preventing him from moving. Tyler figures that, in the long run, it’d be best not to tease Josh about this.

Eventually, Tyler wakes up a little more, and manages to turn over in Josh’s grip, and decides to wake the older man up by kissing his face. Josh sighs, and blinks an eye open at some point, asking, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to wake you up without being mean.”

Josh lets out a noncommittal grunt and closes his eyes again, making no effort whatsoever to release Tyler from the embrace, or to even get up. Tyler wraps an arm around his torso, and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “Josh, I’m serious about waking you up.”

“What time is it?”

Tyler scoots closer to Josh so he can look over his shoulder and at the alarm clock on the side table next to the bed. “A little after eight. Brendon slammed the door on his way out and woke me up. I’m surprised you didn’t hear.”

“I’m a heavy sleeper, I guess.” Josh shrugs.

“Dude, c’mon,” Tyler whines a little bit, and slots one of his legs between Josh’s. He can feel that Josh is hard, and he prays that this could possibly be a way of indirectly bribing the man into waking up fully.

“I’m tired, Tyler.”

“And I’m hard.”

“Hi, hard—“

“Josh, you shut up right now, or I am getting my clothes and leaving without having sex with you.”

At  _that,_ Josh opens his eyes, and gives Tyler a  _look._ He squints his eyes as he says, “You  _wouldn’t.”_

“You wanna test me?”

“… Not really, no.”

Tyler grins and kisses him again. Josh actually reciprocates this time, and Tyler pulls away for a second to say, “Good.” After that, Josh takes control of the situation, and eventually ends up with Tyler straddling his hips.

When Tyler goes to slide a hand into Josh’s boxers, he gets stopped, and Josh tells him to be patient. Tyler whines again, and Josh pinches his ass, which earns him a gentle whack to the chest, and a muttered, “Asshole.”

Josh sticks his tongue out at him and pulls him back down into another kiss. Between kisses, Tyler asks him how long they’re going to spend making out before getting the show on the road.

“Quit being so impatient.”

“Josh, seriously. I’ve been hard for the better part of an hour. I think I reserve the right to be impatient. Do you know how close I am to just jerking off in the bathroom?”

“Sounds hot,” he drawls.

Tyler raises his eyebrows and gives him a pointed look before getting up. Josh rolls his eyes, and grabs Tyler by the wrist before he’s too far away. “Tyler, babe, I was kidding. Get back here. I promise that I will fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”

Tyler starts giggling a little bit. “Ever the romantic, Joshua Dun.”

Josh chuckles and flashes Tyler one of his award winning and dangerously seductive looks as he’s tugging him back towards the bed. As Tyler’s crawling onto his hips again, he asks, “How, exactly, do I deserve to be fucked?”

“Why don’t I just show you?” Josh sits up, and holds into Tyler so he doesn’t fall backwards.

Tyler readjusts his position, and realizes that, like this, the size difference between him and Josh is way more obvious. He bites his lip for a second before admitting, “I’d kind of like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

Josh picks up on his vulnerability. Though, by now, that’s not really a shock. He’s sort of gotten kind of alright at reading Tyler, at least at specific moments. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“I mean, I want to, but I’m just not in the mood for anything super intense. Like, don’t fuck me within an inch of my life, I guess. Not that that’s not enjoyable, but… I dunno. Can we take it slow?” Tyler isn’t making eye contact with him, but instead running his thumb over one of the darker and more noticeable freckles on Josh’s collarbones.

“It’s your birthday sex, man. My sexual prowess is basically at your disposal right now. Within reason of course.”

Tyler cocks a brow. “Within reason?”

“I think there’s only a handful of stuff I won’t do, but anything involving piss, shit, or vomit covers a good portion of it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, then. I’m pretty tame. I don’t know how far out my boundaries are, but I’m not, like, some kinky avenger. I like to get fucked, but sometimes I like to feel like I’m, y’know, respected.”

“I respect you more than you think.” Josh reaches a hand up to run it through Tyler’s messy bed hair. “I know I act like an ass, but I do actually think you’re alright to be around.”

Tyler smiles a little bit, and leans forward to kiss him.

“How about we just take our sweet time instead of rushing it? I’ll take care of you, I promise.” After this, they start kissing each other again, this time with less talking.

Josh runs his hands all over Tyler’s body, paying attention to places that Tyler didn’t even know existed, getting him worked up, making him feel as if his body were on fire. Josh doesn’t pay any attention to his (Tyler’s) cock, though, until Tyler’s rolling his hips, and whining a little bit. He’s close to begging. Even Josh can tell that.

Josh rubs his thumb over the head of Tyler’s cock through his briefs, and bites his lip, because,  _jeez,_ he’s so  _hard._ He tugs at Tyler’s briefs until the boy gets the hint to take them off. Josh doesn’t let him get back into his lap, though, because he’s rolling onto his stomach, and scooting down until he’s able to take the head of his cock into his mouth. He takes his time, and doesn’t rush this blowjob. He teases Tyler, always stopping or slowing down right as the boy is about to shoot his load.

Josh finds himself rolling Tyler onto his stomach. “I thought you said we were taking it slow.”

Josh rolls his eyes. “We are. I mean, still hand me a bottle of lube and a condom, but, trust me, I’m not fucking you quite yet.”

Tyler grunts a bit and obeys the request. He doesn’t quite get what Josh is doing until there’s hands on either side of his ass, spreading his ass cheeks apart, and until there’s a  _tongue_ licking over his hole, and,  _oh,_ that’s what he’s doing. Tyler’s a little skeptical at first, not getting how this is supposed to be a turn on, but he still finds himself squirming and moaning underneath Josh.  _He’s literally a pro at eating ass._

Josh takes way more time than usual working Tyler open with his fingers, and Tyler gets why within a few minutes. He’s slowly fucking two fingers in and out of him, taking the time here and there to rub  _directly_ at his prostate.

Tyler wouldn’t tell anyone else this, but, when Josh whispers,  _“I’m going to ruin you,”_ into his ear as he’s starting to fuck him, he moans like a whore.

\---

“I don’t know how that turned into six hours of fucking over and over.” It’s barely two in the afternoon, and Tyler’s really fucking exhausted, basically curled up and tucked into Josh’s side.

“Was it bad?”

“Oh, god no. I’m just  _very_ fucked out right now.”

“We should probably take a shower or a bath or something. We’re sort of covered in spunk.”

“Only if you carry me,” Tyler mutters.

Of course, he isn’t actually expecting Josh to fucking  _carry_ him, but he does.

\---

They don’t get anything to eat until around five.

Tyler and Josh are sitting at the counter in the diner, next to each other, chatting quietly, and exchanging a few fond looks. Pete immediately notices something’s up, meaning it takes about two seconds for him to have his hands on the counter, asking, “What happened between the two of you?”

Josh shrugs and doesn’t say anything, whereas Tyler mouths, “Later,” to Pete.

\---

Josh takes Tyler home around noon on Sunday, and the second Tyler walks in through the door, his parents are all over him.

“Where the  _hell_ have you been?” His mother starts, voice shrill and piercing and Tyler cringes.

“I went to Ashley’s house,” he lies, smoothly.

“Oh really? That’s funny, because I called her parents, and they said they hadn’t seen you in six months.”

 _Fuck._ “Okay, well, that lie didn’t turn out as well as I had hoped. I was at a different friend’s house, alright? It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” His mother puts her hands on her hips, and tilts her head slightly as she gives him a pointed look. Tyler really wishes she’d just… not. “Your father and I were worried  _sick_ about you. Do you know how bad this looks to your brother?”  _Oh my god. Leave him out of this._ “You—you’re being a  _terrible_ role model.”

“I’m sorry,” he tries, meekly. He’s avoiding eye contact right now, taking to just setting his overnight bag down on the ground. Of course, she isn’t having any of the ‘I’m sorry’ business that Tyler’s in.

“You’re sorry? Who were you even with anyways?”

“His name is Josh. We were just hanging out and we lost track of time, alright? It happens. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“Tyler, you’re still a kid.”  _Ah, yes, now she’s correcting me._

“Well,  _legally,_ I’m an adult, and I am sick and fucking tired of you and Father treating me like I’m some incompetent brat.” Tyler snaps at her.

She snaps back. “An  _adult?_ Do you have a job? Do you pay taxes? Do you drink? Do you smoke? Do you have a family to take care of?”

“I’m working on it, not yet, yes, yes, and I don’t want kids or to get married in general. My answers, respectively.”

“You  _drink?”_

“What’s the big fucking deal? It’s not like I’m going out and getting fucked up every single fucking night.”

“How do you—how do you even get alcohol?” She looks like she’s losing her fucking mind and Tyler wants to laugh.  _Like mother like son._

“Well, you’re not good at locking the liquor cabinet, and I have both of-age friends, and a fake ID.”

At this point, she tries grounding him, and Tyler isn’t having any of it.

“You can’t fucking  _ground_ me.”

“You want to bet?”

“Yes, actually, I do. If you ground me, I’m just going to find more ways to sneak out. You act like I live by the  _grace_ of you, but I  _don’t.”_

She basically screams at him, Tyler yells back, Tyler gets slapped, Tyler shoves her and chews her out, and then she’s kicking him out. Whether or not it’s for the night or for good, he’s not sure.

\---

Tyler uses the last of his money on a bus ride from his neighborhood back to where he’d came from. He stands outside of the diner, and calls Josh, praying that the man both isn’t busy and that he’s not annoyed with him. It rings three times before Josh is picking up, saying,  _“Did you forget something?”_ He sounds bored and unamused, but not annoyed.

Tyler’s panicking so he’s speaking a little too fast and shakily while he tries explaining. “Um, no. I, uh, I got kicked out for the night and I was—I was sort of hoping I could sleep on your couch, or that you could give me Pete’s number so I could hit him up or something.”

_“You could just come back over. That’d be easier.”_

“I’ve already spent two nights, though.”

On the other end of the line, Josh is shrugging, even though Tyler can’t see him. “It’s alright. Where are you at? Do you need a ride?”

_“I’m within walking distance.”_

“Alright. Be safe.”

_“Thanks.”_

_“No problem.”_

_\---_

Tyler is tearing up and shivering a little bit, since it’s December in Ohio and since he’s only wearing a t-shirt since he left home without his jacket. He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, and knocks on Josh’s apartment door.

It opens within a minute, and Tyler sees the way Josh visibly cringes. He figures he looks like a mess. Josh tells him to go sit in the living room while he’s getting a bottle of water for him. Tyler listens to him, and he wants to cry  _more_ when he feels Josh draping one of his own coats over his shoulders, and when he’s being handed a bottle of water and a Xanax.

“It’s a Xanax. Check the imprint on the internet later if you want.”

“I trust you more than I probably should,” Tyler mumbles with a shrug as he takes the pill. Josh leans over the back of the couch to kiss the back of Tyler’s neck, which is something that Tyler’s noticed he does when he wants sex. Basically, if Josh shows more affection towards him than necessary, he wants sex. Tyler jerks away from him and says, “I’m not in the mood right now.”

Josh grunts and Tyler doesn’t see him do it, but he frowns. “Sorry.”

Tyler shrugs. “It’s whatever. I just—at the moment, at least, I need a little space. Wanna organize my thoughts or whatever.”

“I’m not—I’m not good at these things.”

“You don’t have to do anything. You’ve already done more than I expected you to anyways.”

“I just do better with actions rather than words.” Josh comments this as he sits down onto the couch next to Tyler. “So, uh… Pete’s shift starts in a few hours if you want to hang out or something until then.  _Or_ you could spend the night. It’s up to you.”

Tyler shakes his head and immediately just says, “No. I don’t want to spend the night.”

Josh frowns again. “Why not? Did I do something?”

“You didn’t do anything. It’s just that I’ve already been here since Friday, and you always get pissy with me whenever I overstay my welcome, and I hate when you’re pissy with me because you get mean and it confuses me because I never quite know where I stand with you anyways.”

“Oh. Uh. I mean… you’re not wrong, but I’m sort of saying that I’d feel better if you spent another night here. You don’t look like you’re doing too hot, and at least here you’re safe. I didn’t—I didn’t really have a safe place when I was your age, like, a completely safe space, and, I mean, look at how fucked up I am. I know I’m an asshole and all, but, like, if you ever need somewhere safe to go, my apartment is open to you.”

“What would warrant me coming over for something like that?”

“I dunno. Say you were to have a bad trip or something, like, maybe you experiment with something and it doesn’t go well. You could come here and sleep it off, or if I thought it was necessary, I’d take you to an emergency room. Or call 911. Just depends on how sober I am. It’s better than something happening. I mean, you at least get this shitty imported couch.”

Tyler reaches over and places his hand over Josh’s. He squeezes it, and he isn’t surprised when Josh doesn’t reciprocate. “That means a lot to me, that you’d say that. Can I ask what your parents did when you told them you were gay?” Tyler asks the last part quietly.

“I haven’t told them. It’s none of their business in the first place, and I haven’t even spoken to them in over a year anyways.”

“Oh. I was, uh, hoping to ask for advice or something.”

“Dude, I’m almost thirty. I can still give you advice.”

“Alright, then. Well, I think my mom knows, and if she knows, then I’m fucked.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s about as dumb as a sack of potatoes when it comes to certain stuff, but if he knew I don’t think he’d really care. I don’t think he’d go and join PFLAG or anything, but I also don’t think he’d beat the shit out of me either.”

“Are they religious?”

“Mom is. Dad… He sort of is, but he mostly goes to church because Mom goes to church. Most of his family are Arabic speaking and obviously not white Muslims, so I’m sure that really takes the charm out of the SDA church.”

“Can I ask if you’re religious…?”

“I am, but my beliefs are more… modern, and less ‘death to anyone who isn’t straight or white.’ How about you?”

“I am an agnostic atheist. Don’t particularly believe in anything, but I also don’t think that it’s entirely impossible that there’s some higher power out there. Whoever it is, though—they’re an asshole.”

“Ah. You’re not the kind of asshole who is going to call me an idiot for being religious, are you?”

“Not at all. Anyways, for starters, I think you need to focus more on school and maintaining at least alright grades and less on coming to this part of town to fuck your brains out on an almost daily basis.”

“I’ve maintained straight A’s since I was in sixth grade and I got almost perfect scores on my SATs. I could literally go to any college I wanted to, especially since I have a bunch of extracurriculars under my belt as well, so I think I deserve a little reward.”

“No shit?”

“Nope.”

“Did you have any schools in mind?”

“Art school. They’ll  _both_ have a big enough fit over that, but I just don’t want to be another stiff that looks like he has a poker up his ass. It just isn’t me. I’m an artsy type, y’know?”

Josh nods. “I wouldn’t say anything  _ever,_ but you’re not me. I’d say wait until you’ve moved out and can support yourself before saying anything, because, that way, if things get hairy, you won’t have to deal with it.”

“I want them to know, though. I hate hiding all of this. Like, I spent the first seventeen years of my life being piss in my pants afraid of being gay, but once I actually gave in and let myself have things, I’ve just… I love it. I love being myself, and I hate having to hide it.”

“Tyler, don’t say anything right now. Wait for a better moment.”

Tyler grunts, and hunches over a little bit, hands clasped in his lap. He stays like this for a few minutes until a realization hits him. “Oh,  _fuck,_ what if my mom meant for good when she told me to get out? Fuck.”

“She probably just meant for the night, Tyler. Stay here for the night, because, like I said, you’re at least safe here, and in the morning I’ll drive you home, since you have school. We don’t even have to do anything either. We can totally just… hang out and order takeout or something.”

“How come you’re being so nice to me all of a sudden? Like, what’s the deal?”

Josh shrugs. “I remember being a scared eighteen year old, so I can sympathize, I guess.”

“I meant more than just today. Yesterday, and Friday—while we were going at it, you were being all nice and chill and sweet enough to give my cavities, and you haven’t even snapped at me in almost a month. What’s your deal?”

“I don’t know. Do you  _want_ me to be mean to you?”

“Not really,” Tyler admits, staring at his water bottle that he’d set on Josh’s coffee table. “I wish you were like this all the time.”

And now, Josh snaps a little bit. “Well, I’m  _not,_ so don’t get used to it.”

Tyler starts tearing up again. He looks at Josh, looking all pitiful and pathetic, and basically pleads with him. “I wasn’t trying to pick a fight. Please don’t start. Please.”

“You know what? No.” Josh stands up and backs away a few feet. “Why do you just  _assume_ things? Where the  _fuck_ do you get off thinking I’m such an  _asshole?_ Why is it so unfathomable to you for me to be kind once in awhile? I don’t fucking enjoy acting like an asshole, Tyler.”

Tyler snaps back at him, and raises his voice. “Then  _why?_ Why the  _fuck_ do you act like such a goddamn piece of  _shit_ when we  _both_ know full well that you  _aren’t?!”_

Josh’s eyes dart around his living room and his answer isn’t the one Tyler was expecting from him. “Because—I’ve dug myself into a fucking hole, and if I just suddenly started acting like a normal person out of nowhere, no one would let me hear the end of it.”

“Then get new friends, Josh!” Tyler shouts this at him. “Talk to different people!”

“I don’t  _have_ friends. I have you, and I have Brendon, but Brendon hardly even fucking talks to me anymore, and it’s not like anyone I regularly talk to actually  _enjoys_ being around me, because they think I’m just going to fuck them over.”

“If I’m one of the two people in your life, then why do you treat me like shit?! Why? I don’t—I don’t  _get it.”_

“I don’t know,  _alright?”_ Josh starts tearing up, because he’s frustrated and he also wasn’t really expecting to open up to Tyler like this out of nowhere. “There’s just—there’s something wrong with me, and I—I’m  _afraid._ I’m afraid you’re going to leave me the second things aren’t sunshine and happiness, or that you’re going to leave the second I quit being some bad ass and start being an emotional baby. You’re the only one I trust and I don’t want to lose that.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and stands up now. “What the fuck ever.  _Obviously_ you don’t trust me if you think I’m going to just up and disappear the second things aren’t fucking Candyland anymore. Christ, Josh—if I wanted you out of my life, you’d be gone by now. You’ve given me  _plenty_ of other reasons to toss you away like you were nothing, but I’m still here. Why the  _fuck_ would you push me away like that if you were so  _worried?”_

“I have a lot of baggage,” Josh admits. His voice is quieter now and his face looks sticky and hot from tears.

“I can deal. I’m so tired of you and every other fucking person I know treating me like some  _child.”_

Josh wipes at his eyes and looks down at his feet. If he weren’t six two and if he wasn’t twenty nine, Tyler would say he looks kind of like a child right now. Not in a bad way, but it’s more like he looks exhausted and frustrated in the way that kids get whenever they have a  _day._ Like, a  _day._ “I don’t think of you as a child. Anyways, everyone else in my life has left me, so I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”

“It’s because I fucking care about you, Josh.” Tyler stomps one of his feet, and lets his voice soften. “I’m not saying I want to settle down and marry you or anything like that, but you’re not impossible to love, you know. You really aren’t.”

Josh doesn’t look like he believes Tyler, and Tyler figures out his observation is correct when the man is saying, “You’re just saying that. Every time someone decides to stick around for more than a few nights, it’s always because of  _something,_ whether it’s my looks, the  _money,_ how good I am in bed, or what the fuck ever.”

“You need to pull your head out of your ass.” Tyler walks over to Josh after saying this, and holds the man’s chin in his hand, forcing him to make eye contact. “When I first met you, I only liked you because you were good at fucking me, and since you’re possibly the most gorgeous creature on this planet, but you’re  _actually_ capable of being a decent person, contrary to popular belief, and you’ve shown me that on more than a few occasions. You’re capable of being nice, because, I mean—you’ve treated me like a prince for the past few days, and sometimes you do these cute, sweet little things. I just—you need to drop your stupid fucking, “I am a rock, I am a mountain,” attitude, and grow up, because it’s fucking pathetic.”

Josh just looks exasperated for the most part before his crying gets worse, because, hey, he’s frustrated. Tyler grabs his arm, and pulls him into a hug. Josh, literally, cries on his shoulder, and Tyler keeps one hand firmly planted on the back of Josh’s head while rubbing his back with the other.

\---

Josh lets Tyler spoon him. He usually prefers being a big spoon, but for once he’s the one feeling overly vulnerable, so he was a little sheepish about asking Tyler to spoon him. Tyler didn’t say anything or make fun of him, thankfully. Josh is finally calm and not losing his mind for no reason by the time he’s saying, “I haven’t cried like that in a few years.” He keeps his voice low; almost too low for Tyler to hear him.

“I cry all the time. Usually not in front of you, though.”

Josh nods, and the two of them fall silent for a few minutes. Tyler finds himself being blindsided when Josh starts speaking again, though. “I’m skittish with commitment, and I—I’ll never be monogamous, but… Do you want to, like…” Josh sighs, and moves one of his hands in a way to gesture that he’s trying to think of what to say. “I can’t explain it properly. I think we’re friends, or, well, I kinda hope we are, but can we…”

Josh’s breathing is picking up again and the hand that he’s using to gesture while he talks is shaking a little bit. He’s nervous. Joshua fucking Dun is  _nervous._ Tyler never thought he’d live to see the day. “Make it a little more serious, but without the labels?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Do you want to ask me that in a few days…? You’re emotional right now, and I’m afraid you won’t mean it later.”

“No. I’m afraid that if I don’t ask now, then I never will. I mean it with every fiber of my being, trust me. And I—I do like you, I really do, even if I say I don’t, plus, without labels, you’re basically free to come and go as you please, as am I. Though… don’t expect a whole lot out of me.”

“I’m not stupid. I know you fuck around with other guys. I mean, so do I. Open relationships aren’t exactly new.”

“The, uh, the age difference thing. That—that’s a little extreme, and if you feel pressured, you need to tell me.”

Tyler nods and kisses Josh’s shoulder. “I will, don’t worry. I always tell you when I’m not comfortable anyways. This isn’t really any different. Is this something we’re going to keep to ourselves?”

“I’d prefer that, yeah. I’m not—I’m, uh, a pretty private person in the first place. You can tell that one friend of yours if you want, but she’s it. I might tell Brendon if he talks to me, but probably not.”

“Alright then. That sounds good to me. It’s not too complicated. Am I allowed to ask for reassurance once in awhile, though?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

\---

The two of them fall asleep, and wake up sometime around ten. Either of them are a little  _miffed,_ since Tyler has school and since Josh has work Monday morning.

Tyler wakes up first, and nudges Josh awake since he’s hungry. The man groans and tells him that he better have a good reason for waking him up.

“I’m hungry.”

“I have a fridge.”

“It’s filled with booze, poppers, and soggy salad. Can you at least give me enough money to go get something from the diner?”

Josh sits up, and yawns. “I’ll go with you. I need to eat anyways. Can I have a bit to, like, wake up, and to collect myself before we go?”

“Of course. Though… can I borrow a shirt and a jacket? I didn’t grab my jacket before leaving and this shirt is kinda dirty.”

Josh nods, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He goes through his closet, and tosses a  _Journey_ t-shirt and a plain black jacket in his direction. As Josh walks past him to take a shower, Tyler grabs his wrist and tugs him down into a quick kiss. Josh smiles ever so slightly, and Tyler beams at him.

\---

They share a seat at a booth in the diner, and Tyler thanks the lord that he’s left-handed, since Josh is holding his right hand under the table with his own left hand. He’s blushing a little bit, and he’s also avoiding eye contact with Josh, because, hey, he’s sort of flustered.

Josh leans over to press a gentle kiss to Tyler’s temple, and to whisper, “What do you want to eat?” into his ear.

Tyler’s scanning his menu, and ends up just asking, “Can I have breakfast?”

“It’s eleven, and knowing this place, you’re going to get some reheated eggs or something.”

Tyler makes a bit of a face, because Josh has a point. “How about a cheeseburger? Those are always a safe bet.”

“That’s better. I was thinking about going for one myself. How about a drink?”

“Grape Fanta.”

Josh waves Pete over after that, and places an order. Pete sees that they’re holding hands, and only raises his eyebrows a bit in response, but doesn’t acknowledge it. Josh doesn’t catch the look on his face, surprisingly.

Once Pete’s walked away, Tyler asks Josh if he’s paying.

“I always do.”

“Good. Um. Also… can I maybe borrow fifty bucks?”

Josh scoffs. “That’s a lot to borrow.”

“I know, but I don’t know how my mom is going to be once I go home, so I might not get any money to spend this month. She was being kind of a cunt about it.”

“Fair enough.” Josh pulls his wallet out, and pulls out all of the cash he has. He counts out fifty dollars, and hands it to Tyler after saying, “You’re paying me back.”

“I will. I promise. Thank you so much.”

Josh nods a little bit and sneaks in a quick peck on the lips that left Tyler smiling sort of like a dumb ass. Tyler’s about to kiss him again when, of all people, Patrick is the one sliding into the seat across from them at their booth. He smells like weed and booze and his hair is a mess, so Tyler figures he was… busy.

Pete doesn’t bother walking across the diner to take Patrick’s order. Instead, he just asks, “You want your usual, right?”

“Water instead of OJ this time, though.”

“Gotcha.”

“What’s… up?” Tyler quirks his eyebrow at the man sitting in front of him.

“Getting some protein in me so I’m not completely miserable when I wake up tomorrow,” he mumbles. “You know who I fucking hate? My boss. I hate my boss.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Well, it was my turn to lock up the office today, which isn’t a big deal because all I have to do is make sure all of the computers are off and to make sure all of the offices are locked. I forgot to turn off  _one_ of the computers, and my boss tore into me over it. He literally even threatened to dock my pay a little bit, like, what the fuck, you know?”

Tyler says, “That sounds like a crock of shit,” at the same time Josh says, “Get a different job, then.”

“Tyler, you’re right, and Josh, I’ve been trying.”

\---

Brendon pops in a little after Patrick leaves to go home, and just before Tyler and Josh are done with their own meals. Josh watches his best friend, and watches as the man’s face falters a little bit, and watches as he frowns before plopping down at a booth on the opposite side of the restaurant. Josh figures out what his deal is when he sees Ryan walking into the diner behind him.

Tyler leans over to whisper, “What’s with them?”

“Don’t know, and I don’t care.”

“I don’t know why they can’t just sit with us. We’re almost done anyways, and there’s an entire empty seat right in front of us.”

“Brendon hasn’t said anything to be since yesterday morning, and usually we at least text each other a few times a day.”

“Odd.” Tyler bites the inside of his cheeks and frowns slightly. He rubs his thumb over where it rests on Josh’s, and he gets his hand squeezed in response before Josh replies verbally.

“It’s probably Ryan. He doesn’t like me, at all, and I know he’s jealous because of Urie. Wouldn’t be surprised if Ryan said something.”

“If he did say something, then that’s really uncool. I mean, Brendon’s your best friend. It isn’t his place to say anything.”

“We’ve been drifting anyways, at least since Ryan entered the picture.”

Tyler shrugs and picks at his side of fries. “It happens, I guess. I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s fine.”

_\---_

Josh and Tyler see each other again a few weeks after the whole thing with Josh crying and basically asking Tyler to be his boyfriend. Either of them are at Atlantis, but once Tyler notices that Josh is dancing with another guy, he's winking at him, then flashing his fake ID to the bartender as he orders a strawberry daiquiri.

Some John Doe comes up to Tyler, flirting with him, and Tyler's a little flattered and he's half tempted to let the guy continue to hit on him, and he's half tempted to slip away with him to fuck, but he turns his head for less than half a minute, and by the time he's looking back towards the guy, he sees Josh basically marching over in his peripheral.

Josh kind of reminds Tyler of a cat, especially now. If he were a cat, he would definitely be puffing his fur up, ready to brawl. He's smooth about putting himself between Tyler and  _the guy,_ and he's smooth about shooing the guy off with a simple, "Beat it."

Tyler huffs and rolls his eyes, and he's just about to take a sip of the drink he ordered, but Josh is taking it from him and ordering another one, as well as telling the bartender to dump the one Tyler had originally ordered, a glare settling on his face.

"Okay, what the fuck is your issue?" Tyler asks, voice raised loud enough to where he can be heard over the sound of the thumping music.

"That guy put something in it," He explains. "Word of advice: don't take your eyes off your drink, at least not in here."

"Seriously? That's lame. Ugh." Tyler makes a face, and slouches a little bit, pouting.

Josh rolls his eyes a little bit, mutters something about rohypnol being salty, pecks Tyler on the cheek, and tells him to be careful before he's slipping back into the crowd with another muttered comment of seeing a hot piece of tail.

Tyler goes between watching Josh and scanning the crowd for a trick of his own. He only watches Josh because, like... Josh is hot, and Tyler finds watching Josh get sexual with someone else hot for whatever reason. Tyler doesn't get to watch Josh for long, though, because he spots a  _super_ fuckable guy, and knocks back the rest of his drink before deciding to go and try hitting on him.

This guy, whoever he is, he's sort of cute in this homely way. He has dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, and his skin is a dreamy olive color. He has a prominent jawline, toned arms, and although he's a little handsy, grabbing at Tyler's ass almost right off the bat, Tyler's sort of excited.

Though, he  _does_ hate some of the guys he hits on, aside from Josh. Josh is at least respectful of Tyler and doesn't treat him like a common whore. (Roleplay and dirty talk is a whooole other story, though.) Sure, Tyler would say that it's not too far fetched to consider himself a slut, but he doesn't think that means he deserves to  _not_ be treated like royalty, and that doesn't mean he's not miffed or put off in the slightest as he's being led towards the backroom in Atlantis after a very brief period of getting groped by John Doe number two.

Tyler thinks to himself,  _"Why am I even doing this?"_ as he's dropping to his knees, and unbuckling the guy's belt. He cringes a little bit once he gets an eyeful of this guy's dick. It's not much, honestly. it's average as far as size goes, definitely nothing to write home about, and, apparently, this guy didn't even have the common decency to at least  _trim_ his pubes.

Tyler asks him if he's clean, since he doesn't want to risk getting, like, gonnaherpesyphilis, and once he's assured that the man in front of him is clean, he... gets to it, praying that he wasn't lied to. Tyler's a little cocky about his dick sucking skills (so to speak) and he isn't surprised when there's hands in his hair, and when this guy starts basically trembling from being so turned on.

Tyler takes his time, going slow, teasing, but he finds that he has to let his jaw relax, since the guy starts bucking his hips, effectively fucking Tyler's mouth.Despite that fact that Tyler's used to deepthroating, especially given he deepthroats Josh's monster cock on an almost weekly basis, sometimes twice weekly, he's usually pretty good about being able to, y'know,  _deepthroat,_ but he still has a gag reflex, and he still enjoys a little warning.

He lets the guy have at it, making a vow to stop it only if he's especially uncomfortable, and he lets himself think about how, out of all the dicks he's sucked (which isn't really  _that_ many), he definitely prefers going down on Josh the most. Of course, the fact that the two of them have an emotional connection, and that either of them know each other's boundaries, definitely influences Tyler's opinion. Also, like,  _Josh_ trims his pubes, and they don't get stuck in Tyler's teeth, and, alright, Tyler basically worships Josh's cock. It's literally the kind of cock you'd definitely write home about.

Tyler's dragged out of his thoughts when the guy is pulling out, and he only has a few seconds to squeeze his eyes shut as the guy is shooting his load onto Tyler's face. Tyler wipes his face off with his hand, and wipes his hand on the wall.

In exchange for a blowjob that Tyler considers pretty fucking great, he gets a sloppy and absolutely  _terrible_ handjob that leaves him disgusted and disappointed. He knows he looks annoyed as he's walking out of the backroom, because before  _Josh_ is disappearing into one of the bathrooms, he's mouthing,  _"You okay?"_ to Tyler, who just nods and waves his hand dismissively, because he's  _fine._

\---

Tyler estimates that it's roughly three in the morning by the time he reaches the diner. (Well, actually, he  _knows_ it is, because he can read a clock, and since he has a cell phone.) Pete's working the graveyard shift as usual, and Tyler grunts in response to the, "Hey," he gets from the man as he's sitting at the counter. He orders a glass of ice water and a bowl of soup.

After Pete's hung the ticket up, and once he's back at the counter, wiping it down, he asks, "What's with the soup? If memory serves me correctly, you usually tend to order a hamburger and Grape Fanta."

Tyler puffs out a breath and starts talking. "First off, someone slipped rohypnol into my drink, but Josh happened to be keeping an eye on me, meaning I didn't get a chance to take even a sip of it, and  _then_ I sucked this guy off, right? For one thing, his dick was gross. I mean, it was clean and all, but he didn't even bother to trim his pubes, and I picked, like, three of them out of my mouth while I was walking here. He even fucked my mouth without asking. Like, alright, it's not as if I'm incapable, because I have literally deepthroated Josh's fucking  _monster_ of a dick on  _numerous_ occasions, but I do enjoy a little warning. He did that, then shot his load on my face,  _without asking,_ which was disgusting, and after that, he gave me a horrible, dry handjob. It was literally the worst one I've ever gotten, and although that's not saying much considering I've only gotten gotten handjobs from three different guys, excluding the village asshole, my point still stands."

"Ew. I'm sorry about that, man. Can I ask how Josh is? Like, with sex and stuff?"

"What do you mean?"

"I meant does he do shit like that—without asking."

"No. Never. He's a little weird about sex, and I'm not saying he's into weird shit, because, honestly, he's pretty vanilla, but every single time we do anything, no matter how drunk he is, no matter how fast we're trying to be, and even if it's something simple like a handjob he is  _adamant_ on having my consent. He's also respectful of me, for the most part, and doesn't do anything I'm not one hundred percent comfortable with."

"Ah. That's good, at least. I mean, I haven't ever fucked him before, but I've always been a little curious as to what he's like."

"Understandable. I can vouch for him as far as sex goes, but he's terrible at being in a relationship." Tyler has his water by now, and he takes a sip after saying that.

"Relationship?" Now, Pete's eyebrows are super far up on his forehead, and Tyler groans.

"Shit. It was a slip. Um. Yeah. Don't tell anyone. He has some privacy issues I think, and told me that he didn't want to tell anyone, at least not, like, right off the bat."

"In the eleven, almost twelve years I've known that man, I've only seen him have  _one_ boyfriend. He's so anti relationships. Can I also ask how  _that_ happened?"

Tyler shrugs. "It just did. We had a good weekend last week, and sort of bonded or something, and then on Sunday we got into it, and had a full on shouting match. It wasn't that bad or anything, but it was probably worthy of an Academy award. Also, I'm serious—don't tell anyone about this, because he will kill me if he finds out I've been blabbing, but he got frustrated and upset and started crying, and after I got him to calm down, we, like... started cuddling."

"What kind of cuddling?"

"He asked me to spoon him. Josh—he doesn't let himself feel things, and he doesn't like to admit that he gets vulnerable, and that he actually has feelings, so I just--I guess him asking me to pretty much just hold him as sort of a big step for him. I think a better way to phrase all of that is that he acts like he hates intimacy, even though he doesn't. I just don't know why it's  _me_ that he trusts like that."

"It's because he likes you. I doubt he'd ever have the balls to admit it--"

"He told me that he cares about me, so, surprisingly, he does have the balls."

"No shit? Good for him. Sorry if I seem weirdly concerned about Josh, but similar to what I'm doing with you, I took him under my wing and tried to guide him in the right direction as best as I could, and as much as he'd let me. Josh is kind of like a younger brother to me."

"How old are you anyways?"

"At the moment I'm thirty six. I turn thirty seven sometime next year."

"Huh. Cool, I guess."

"Not really. I'm starting to get, like, lines on my face. Totally uncool. Anyways, back to the Josh topic. I want you to keep going."

"Alright, alright. Another bit of Josh trivia is that whenever he's sleepy, and whenever he's about to fall asleep, he starts babbling and talking about stuff, and he went on this little rant about how he actually cares about me, and explained that he's no good when it comes to commitment, and that he's probably going to be shitty when it comes to things like being affectionate, but he asked me if I wanted to be in a relationship with him, but without the labels. I mean, he even took the time to be straight with me, and to tell me that if the thing with our age difference ever caused any problems, then I'd need to tell him."

"How do the two of you work as far as the age difference goes anyways?"

"We do alright. I mean, there's still a maturity difference between the two of us, but, for the most part, he treats me as an equal and doesn't act like I'm some innocent flower child. He also doesn't coddle me or anything like that."

"Well, as much as I hate seeing an eighteen year old and a thirty year old being in a relationship, I still think you're good for him."

"Glad to have your blessing," Tyler says with a chuckle.

"Any time. Also, uh, do you need a ride home or anything? I mean, I know you usually get here  _somehow,_ but from the way you talked earlier, it doesn't sound like you had the best night, so you know."

Tyler realizes, at this moment, that Pete is kind. "Nah. I'm probably going to walk to Josh's apartment. It's closer to here than the bus stop I usually use is, and he'll probably take me home whenever we're both awake tomorrow."

\---

It's five, and Josh is standing in his bathroom, brushing his teeth, when he hears someone knocking on his door _._ He continues brushing his teeth, figuring that if it's Brendon, he'll just use his key and walk in eventually, and if it's Tyler, he'll just keep knocking until Josh answers.

The knocking is continuous and doesn't falter in the slightest, so Josh figures it is, indeed, Tyler. He rinses his mouth out with water, and spits into his sink, before making his way from his bathroom to the door. He wasn't expecting any visitors, and, honestly, he sort of wants to just go to bed and not deal with anyone, but he's also afraid that there  _might_ be something wrong, so the tiny part of him that actually cares about anything is giving him a bored look and telling him to answer his fucking door. Also, like, Tyler starts ringing the doorbell, and Josh hates his doorbell.

Josh opens the door, and he knows he looks annoyed, because, as implied, he sort of is. He  _really_ wants to just pop a few prescription sleeping pills that aren't actually prescribed to him, and after that, he planned to seep for an uninterrupted eight to twelve hours. Yes, he's prepared to sleep until five in the evening on a Saturday. Go big or go home.

He asks, "What do you want?"

Tyler looks up at him with his stupid brown eyes that are a little too cute for josh's liking, and he talks. "I had a bad night and I need somewhere to crash. Like, sleep crash. Not drug crash. I was hoping I could sleep on your couch or something."

Josh rolls his eyes behind his eyelids a little bit before he's motioning for Tyler to come in. As he's walking back towards his bedroom, he says, "You can sleep in my bed if you want. It's probably more comfortable than the piece of shit in my living room."

Tyler mumbles a quiet, "Thanks," before taking his shoes off and hanging his jacket on the coat rack next to the door.

He follows Josh, and he sits on the man's bed while he takes his pants and his shirt off. He watches at Josh opens three different pill bottles that were on top of his dresser, and watches as he slips into the bathroom to fill a Dixie cup with water to take the pills.

He's expecting Josh to just get into the bed, but he doesn't. He leans on the door frame of his bathroom, and asks, "How was your night bad?"

Tyler's caught off guard. Josh usually doesn't ask him about his day, or night, or whatever else. He usually just has to talk about it himself. "Uh. Well, that thing happened at the bar, and then, like, you saw me walking out of the backroom."

Josh nods, waiting for Tyler to go on.

"He kind of, like... Okay, so, I gave him a blowjob, and instead of asking or at least giving me a heads up, he just, like, basically fucked my face and it was kind of disgusting. He also apparently doesn't at least trim his pubes, which is  _actually_ disgusting."

Josh frowns a little bit and starts heading towards the light switch in his bedroom. He keeps his fingers just above the switch since Tyler decides to continue talking. "On top of that, he was being all gross and handsy with me too. I mean, I don't mind when guys do that, but he was being super forceful, and I really hate being that guy, but I like being treated with respect, and not like a common whore."

"A lot of the guys that hang around Atlantis are like that, unfortunately." Josh tells him this just before turning the lights off. He makes his way to his bed, and gets under the blankets. He isn't really expecting to have this reflex, but, he finds himself reaching for Tyler's arm so he can tug the boy into the bed, and so he can hold him close to his chest.

"Like I said last week, you're safe here."

"I know. That's why I'm here. Didn't really feel comfortable going home, since I'm a little drunk, and since this isn't really the best neighborhood anyways. Also, I mean, I'm sort of upset and if I was at home by myself it'd just make it worse."

Josh nods and kisses the side of Tyler's neck.

\---

Tyler's using his free period a little later in the week to sit in one of the courtyards to eat something when Josh decides to send him a text. He rarely ever texts him, usually only to ask something if he doesn't have time to call, so Tyler figures it might be important.

 

 **Josh <3**: What does your dad do for work

 **Tyler** : why do u ask

 **Josh** <3: Well, I ask, because I have a new client who owns some dinky little Lebanese restaurant.

 **Tyler** : oh god

 **Tyler** : what's his name

 **Josh** <3: Christopher Joseph

 **Tyler** : no no no no no get rid of him

 **Josh** <3: I can't just get rid of him, dude. I have a contract and I'll get fined if I break it for no reason.

 **Tyler** : don't tell him about me pls

 **Josh** <3: Like I'm going to tell this guy I fuck his eighteen year old son on an almost weekly basis. Anyways, look—I'm good at my job, like, really good, and if I can, I'm going to try my best to throw together an ad campaign that will blow the panties off of consumers. More money for him means more money for you by association. Technically, I'm sort of doing you a favor.

\---

"Are you sure this isn't a little too..."

Josh turns his head to look at Debby, his assistant, then turns it back to look at the man who he now knows is Tyler's father, to reply to him. "What? Gay? Deb, what do you think?"

"Wouldn't care a single bit. Things like this are what's going to appeal to a certain...  _demographic."_

"This isn't about my political views. Don't tell my wife, but I'm not conservative. I have no problem whatsoever with... queers, but, my clientele is rather..."

"Let me guess," Josh starts, "White, middle aged, middle class, looking for something exotic."

"Essentially, yes."

"Well, in my opinion, your problem right now is because you've been trying to appeal to the family crowd for too long. You'd be surprised at the amount of queer citizens in Columbus. It's honestly ridiculous, and, in my opinion, it'd be foolish of you not to take advantage of such a huge amount of potential clientele with highly disposable income. I'll also be honest about the fact that Lebanese restaurants aren't all that hot right now,  _but,_ it's my job to make people think that they are."

Josh stands up from where he'd been sitting on the edge of the table in this conference room and uses a laser pointer to gesture towards one of the concept posters he'd made. "Even I'll admit that this guy is hot. If you have a pretty face on a poster, you'd be surprised at how many people you can drag in, even if it's just a few people here and there thinking, "Eh, fuck it—that guy on the poster is hot, so I may as well try this restaurant to see if it lives up to all the hype.""

The man looks slightly disgruntled. "I don't want to risk losing customers over this, though. I'm already having a hard enough time as it is."

"Aren't we all? We can still stick to the ads you've already been running, but maybe it's time to shake things up a little, yeah? You can either take my advice or leave it. I've been in advertising for almost eight years, so I think that, by now, I know what I'm doing."

\---

It's in the middle of the first week of 2001 when Tyler comes home from school to see Josh's Jag in the driveway. Tyler walks into his house warily, and pales when he sees Josh and his father standing at the island in the kitchen, speaking to each other about  _something._

Tyler slowly and carefully steps into the kitchen, eyeing Josh. His father starts with, "Oh, Tyler!" as he's putting a packet of papers down, and smiling warmly. "This is Joshua Dun. He's that guy I told you about who does the advertising."

Josh goes with it, and Tyler almost implodes when Josh smiles at him and shakes his hand like a normal person saying, "Josh is fine. It's nice to meet you, Tyler."

Tyler squints. "Yeah, uh... Thanks. I guess. Why are you here? Don't you have an office or something."

"Tyler, watch your tongue. Don't be rude," his father chastises.

"Well? I was just wondering."

"I do have an office, but this was more convenient. Sometimes it's easier to work with clients in their own homes, especially clients with small businesses such as your father. Anyways, Mister Joseph, what sort of food do you serve specifically?" Josh pretty much ignores Tyler now, focusing his attention onto the eighteen year old's dad.

Tyler lingers as he pulls a carton of grapefruit juice from the fridge, eavesdropping on the conversation. He also cringes as his father goes on and on about the food in his shitty restaurants being the best  _pure_ Lebanese food in Columbus. With a roll of his eyes, Tyler turns his head to mouth,  _"Bullshit,"_ to Josh.

"Are you  _sure_ it's the best...?" Josh quirks an eyebrow at the eldest man in the room. "If your food isn't the best, I need to know, because it will affect how I run this campaign."

Tyler cuts in at this point. "The food isn't bad, but it's Americanized. It's kind of like how Chinese food in America is versus what it's like in China. We eat  _actual_ Lebanese food at home, but in the restaurant, it's Americanized."

Tyler's father busts out the stern  _dad_ tone.  _"Tyler."_

"No, no, let him speak. The more I know the better. Quality what do you think it's like?" Josh tilts his head and Tyler glares at him for a split second.

"I hate a lot of the restaurant food, but I'm used to having  _actual_ Lebanese food. I suppose that, from an outside point of view, it's alright, but you'd have to try it yourself."

After that, Tyler's told to go to his room. He stands outside of the kitchen and eavesdrops a little more after he grabs his glass of grapefruit juice, though.  _"I'm so sorry about him. He turned eighteen about a month ago, and he's been a little mouthy since then."_

_"It's completely fine. We were both eighteen once too. You should probably take him more seriously, though. I, personally, think he had some good points, despite his execution being a little... harsh. Teenagers are really perceptive and smarter than you'd think."_

During the first week of February, Josh invites Tyler over for an unofficial and not established date. At least, that's what Tyler thinks it is, mostly since this is the second time ever Josh has invited Tyler over on his own or without any prompting from Tyler, since he rarely cooks, and since he acquired super expensive wine out of nowhere.

For the most part, the two of them talk to each other, and Tyler steals a few kisses here and there.

Josh starts up a bit of a conversation eventually, though. "Brendon hasn't spoken with me more than necessary since your birthday."

"Seriously?" Tyler frowns as he takes another bite of his spaghetti.

"Yeah. I think something's going on with him and Ryan. He's been acting off, and, like I said, he won't talk to me. Usually we used to at least exchange a few texts in the mornings or whatever, but he hasn't said good morning to me since sometime in December."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"A few times. He doesn't answer, though. I've seen him at Atlantis and a few of the bars, plus the diner, but he usually just says 'hi' then walks off."

"You don't think it has anything to do with me, do you?"

"Doubt it. I mean, you might be part of it, but if you are, it's a very small part. He's stubborn and persistent, so I don't think you'd be nearly enough of a deterrent for him to leave me alone."

"I mean... I'm stubborn and persistent. I'm here, aren't I?"

"You know full well you wouldn't be here if I didn't want you to be," Josh states.

"I know, I know, but I worry."

"Don't do that, then. I always just blatantly tell you if I don't want something, don't I?"

"Well, yeah, but sometimes I get scared that you're leading me on."

"But I'm not, and you should know that. I haven't promised you anything that I know I won't be able to provide. For example, if we were  _boyfriends,_ I'd be promising you a monogamous relationship, whereas we both know full well I'd be fucking around on you, which isn't cool."

"I mean, I sleep with other people sometimes, but, like, most of the time it's just you, honestly."

"Do you actually like sleeping with other people?" Josh asks a little quietly, looking up from his own plate, then back down at it.

Tyler feels sort of ashamed for some reason as he admits, "Not really. A lot of the other guys I've been with other than you have no idea what they're doing, and it just... doesn't feel right, I guess."

"Just because I sleep with other people doesn't mean that you have to. You  _can_ if you want, because I don't really care, but you don't  _have_ to."

"Have you ever slept with anyone else more than once?" Tyler's mostly curious, and sort of making sure Josh isn't screwing around on him already.

"A few people, yeah, but not while I've known you. I had a few boyfriends when I was younger, but I wasn't really ever able to stay monogamous after a certain point for reasons I'd rather not talk about right now, so I'd cheat, break someone's heart, then it'd end and I'd go back to fucking everyone I could get my hands on. I mean, of course, I would try, but I dunno... Something's wrong with me, I guess. Commitment sort of scares me, and I also use sex as a coping mechanism. Also, uh, you're still... you're still cool that I sleep with other people sometimes, right?"

"Yeah, of course." Tyler shrugs a little bit. "I mean, I get a little jealous if I actually see you hitting on someone, but I try not to think about it for the most part."

"If you're not actually okay with it, you need to tell me, Tyler."

Tyler shrugs again. "I don't know that I am. I mean, I'm not  _not_ okay with it, but I don't know if I'm actually okay with it. At first I was, because I was just happy that I had you or however the hell you phrase it, but, uh, y'know."

"Look... I'm not involved with anyone else, because, honestly, I'm super picky with who I like romantically, and like I said, you're free to come and go when you want. I'm not forcing you into this. Do you want out of this?"

"No. I don't want out of this. You're sort of the only stable thing in my life right now, and I just—I feel safe when I'm around you. I mean, I have school to worry about because I graduate in May, and on top of that, my parents' relationship is rocky so I'm sort of stuck doing things that should be  _their_ responsibility, plus I also need to start applying for scholarships and schools to go to in the fall."

"Three things. One, do you actually like me, or is it because you're using me as an emotional crutch?"

"I really,  _really_ like you. Like, so much more than you think, alright? I mean, I get fed up with some of your bullshit sometimes, but trust me, I like you. What else?"

"What shit of your parents are you taking on that you apparently shouldn't be?"

"Taking care of my little brother, mostly. Like, cooking meals for him, making sure he gets up and gets to school on time, and making sure he's able to have a ride home. Dad's out of the house a lot because he can't deal with my mom yelling and screaming all the time, and my mom acts like I'm basically the hired help, so I'm stuck with household chores."

"That's bullshit. I get taking care of your brother, because I sort of had a similar situation when I was, uh, growing up, but still. I'd help if I could."

Tyler cracks a bit of a sad half grin. "Yeah. Not much to do, though, unless you're willing to either put me up, or pay for my rent, were I to move out at this very second."

"This isn't the third thing, but when do you think you're gonna move out?"

"Sometime this summer. I was thinking about asking Ashley if she wanted to move in together with me, because splitting rent is always easier."

"Ah. Anyways, the third thing—what happened to art school?"

"I dunno. I just... being an artist isn't practical, and my parents are gonna throw a fit if I go to an art school probably."

"Can I ask what you do? Like, what's your medium?"

"Music and writing. Mostly music, though. I sing, and I can play plenty of instruments."

"What instruments?"

"You're full of questions tonight, jeez. Uh. Piano, guitar, ukulele, violin, trumpet, and the flute. The last three are mostly because I was in band and orchestra in middle school and most of high school. Um. I tried playing bass guitar for awhile, but my fingers are super delicate, and after a string broke on me, I wussed out. I can  _sort of_ play drums, but I fucking suck at it, so I dunno."

"I'm sort of alright with drums and trumpet. Had a phase when I was younger."

Tyler huffs a little bit. "Awesome. Maybe I'll hit you up sometime."

"I'll probably tell you no, but you can try. Anyways—you should show me some of your music sometime. I could probably pull a few strings, given that you're talented. I've been in advertising since I was twenty two, so that's almost eight years. I've met a lot of people, and I've made some business friends."

"Y'know, you take care of me. Why?" Tyler has a perplexed frown on his face.

Josh shrugs for the million time. "Because, you take care of me in a way."

"How so?" Tyler's a little taken aback.

Josh avoids eye contact and takes a bite of spaghetti, the first he's taken in at least ten minutes. "You care about me in a way that no one has before. I know Brendon cares about me, or did, but it's different with you. People make snap judgments about me, but you never really have, and you're incredibly kind. I mean, I feel like if I had any problems that were especially bad, I could go to you and not worry about you screwing me over, or making me feel stupid."

"I dunno. I just... I try treating you like a human being, because that's what you are. Human. You're definitely not perfect, but I, personally, think you're pretty cool. Also, I mean, you don't treat me like a kid, which is pretty cool."

"As far as I'm concerned, you're my equal, and, hey, I like being treated like a human being, because you're right—that's all I am. Brendon pretty much worshiped me, which was kind of weird, and everyone else I know treats me like shit. I mean, I had it coming, given how I tend to treat people, but it still sucks, because my natural reflex is to be a dick."

"I think you're decent, and that you give good head."

Josh rolls his eyes, snorts, and pokes Tyler in the shin with his sock covered foot. He's about to say something, but a thought pops into his head, so he says that instead. "Hey, uh, would it help if we came up with some terms, or rules for whatever it is we got?"

"Maybe. What kind of rules?"

"Rules about sex and relationships with other people."

"Oh." Tyler thinks for a moment before saying, "I'm the only person you sleep with more than once. Same goes for me. No relationships with anyone else either."

Josh nods. "Reasonable. No lying or sneaking around either. If one of us fucks up, we tell each other."

"That's fair. No one stays over other than me, and no hiding things. If you have a problem with me, or a problem that I should know about, or vice versa, then say something."

"I can do that. So, uh... how about we finish eating, clean these dishes up, and either go to bed, fuck, or watching something...?"

"I'm, uh, not really in the mood to fuck, but do you think we could just... maybe make out for awhile?"

"What are we—twelve?"

"Might as well be." Tyler shrugs. "It's either that, or I'm going to bed."

Josh makes a bit of a face.

Tyler rolls his eyes and smiles at him.

\---

Tyler's mother meeting Josh for the first time happens with Tyler in the room. Tyler's sitting on the floor, helping his little brother, Zack, with some homework, and Josh is sitting on the couch, waiting for Tyler's father to get home, since he's there for 'business things,' as his father had dubbed it, which meant he and Tyler were trying their best to act as if they didn't know each other.

Tyler knows his mother recognizes Josh from the photos. She doesn't say anything, of course, but she does give the two of them a few slightly dirty and suspicious looks, ones that his father doesn't catch of course.

\---

Later in February, probably during the last week of it, after hanging out with the usual crew, except for Brendon, at one of the bars, Tyler and Josh start heading back to his apartment, mostly to fool around, and they're kissing each other and laughing a bit along the way, just having a good time, when Tyler's being grabbed by the hood of his jacket, and being called by his full name.

_"Tyler Robert Joseph."_

Josh is the first to whirl around and to mutter, "Fuck," under his breath.

Tyler turns around next, after getting the hand that's holding onto the hood of his jacket to let go, and he pales at the sight of his mother standing there, looking pissed as hell, not to mentioned  _shocked._

Dumbly, he says, "Um. Hey, Ma."

"What the hell are you  _doing?"_

"Just, uh... walking and talking."  _Might as well try to play it off._

"I just saw you walk out of that bar with  _four other men,_ yet you mean to tell me that you're just—you're just  _walking and talking?"_

Tyler shrugs.

His mother focuses her attention onto Josh next. "And  _you—_ are you some sort of  _pervert?"_

Tyler takes a deep breath, lets it out, then responds. "I know you recognize him from the pictures, and, no, he's not a pervert. Jesus—were you  _stalking me?"_ Tyler gives her an incredulous look, wondering what the hell her issue is. Okay, he knows what her issue is, but he thinks that her basically stalking him is a little much.

"I was  _following_ you to see where the hell you've been going for the past six months, and why you've always been  _out."_

Josh decides to cut in at this point, trying to deescalate the situation. "Okay, I'm—I'm sure you aren't my biggest fan at the moment, but he's allowed to make his own choices. I'm not saying that they're the best choices, but we were both eighteen once too, right?"

 _That's... actually pretty reasonable. Huh. Go Josh._ Tyler knows she isn't sure on what to say, and he notices her stumble just a tiny bit, and he knows the look in her eyes, causing him to ask, "Are you  _drunk_ right now?"

"That's none of your concern,  _Tyler,"_ she basically hisses. "You need to come home with me.  _Now."_

For the first time in a long time, Tyler stands up to her. "No. If I go home with you, you're going to yell at me, and slap me around, and we both know it."

"Either you come home with me  _right now,_ or you don't come home ever again."

Tyler scoffs. "You can't do that to me."

"As a matter of fact, I  _can._ You're eighteen. It's not my job to take care of you anymore."

Tyler runs his mouth, and decides to say the exact wrong thing.

 _"Fine._ Fuck you. I'll come home and get my shit, but after that, I'm gone. You get your wish, Mom."

\---

Tyler goes home with Josh, and in the morning, Josh takes Tyler home. Tyler's relieved to see that his mother isn't home when he gets there, but his nerves come right back once his father is sitting both him  _and_ Josh down for a  _talk._

"Tyler, I tried talking to your mother, I really did, but she isn't budging, at least not right now. I think that, for the time being, it's best if you weren't here. It's not that  _I_ don't want you here, because I'd rather you be here, but we both know how your mother is.  _Anyways,"_ he turns towards Josh, "Josh, that's where you come in."

Josh motions for him to go on, face blank, devoid of any emotion, and Tyler feels sick to his stomach. He knew his mom wouldn't be alright with anything, but he wasn't expecting to get kicked out.

"I know that the two of you have been...  _seeing_ each other. I'm not stupid, and I've seen the looks you give him, and the ones he give you. I'm not saying I'm okay with all of it, because I'm  _not,_ but there's nothing I can do given Tyler's age."

Josh sighs and rolls his eyes a tiny bit. "Get to the point, Joseph."

"How much would it cost for him to stay with you?"

"And why do you assume he would be staying with me?" Josh gives him a pointed look and Tyler basically curls in on himself.

"Where else would he stay? We don't have any immediate family that lives within either Columbus, Ohio, or the country, I know he doesn't have any friends he could stay with, and you're the one who seduced him, who  _fucked_ him, so why shouldn't you be responsible?"

"Well, for one thing, he's  _your_ kid, he's not my boyfriend, and anything we've done together has been completely consensual and of his own volition."

Tyler's father sighs. "At least with you, I know where he is, and I know he's safe."

"What the fuck do you think I'm going to do? Run away?"

"Language, and you might. I wouldn't know. You don't talk to me or your mother anymore."

Josh sighs, and takes a moment or two to say, "Fine. You're already paying me enough for work, and my rent is more than you take home in a month. Don't worry about paying me."

\---

They spend the rest of that day packing up Tyler's stuff, and moving it to Josh's apartment. Before making the first trip there, Josh is saying, "Jesus Christ, Tyler, how much shit do you have?" after realizing that both his trunk and back seat are full, yet Tyler  _still_ has more stuff.

"I still have more clothes to bring out, shoes, recording equipment, instruments, school stuff, and a computer, plus a few things I'd like to keep with me for sentimental value, and, look, your backseat is pitifully small. You should've gone with a Cadillac."

Out of all of that, Josh decides to question the recording equipment.

"I told you. I'd like to consider myself a budding musician. My parents aren't exactly poor, so I took advantage while I could and got some equipment."

"Oh. Huh." Josh scratches his head. "Must've forgot, I guess."

\---

"What I want to know is how you got perfect scores on your SATs when you don't even understand basic trig."

"I used to have a tutor. Are you going to help me or not? You told me that homework was a condition of staying here, Josh."

Josh grunts as he sits down next to Tyler in front of his coffee table. Tyler kisses him, and although it earns him a grin from Josh, he finds himself groaning as soon as the doorbell rings. Josh sighs loudly, and hauls himself off of the ground again. "I swear to fucking god..."

"Ten bucks says it's Brendon," Tyler says in a raised voice as Josh gets up to go answer the door.

"Get ready to give me ten bucks," Josh mutters.

Of course, when Tyler hears Brendon's voice, he's shouting, "Ten bucks, fucker! Pay up!"

Josh steps back into the living room with his wallet, basically shoving a ten into his hand.

As soon as Brendon sees Tyler, he's asking, "Why is he always here? It's been seven months, Josh. Doesn't he ever go home?" in a disappointed sounding tone.

Tyler spares him a glance, and does a slight hand gesture, as if to say,  _"I am home,"_ but Brendon doesn't catch it.

"If you're here to bitch about Tyler, then you need to leave. You haven't spoken to me  _once_ since December, so you've kind of lost the right to complain. Why are you here anyways?"

Brendon gives Tyler a slightly wary look. "Tyler, could you like... leave?"

"I'm working on homework. Just pretend like I'm not here."

Josh sighs a little bit and hands Tyler another twenty bucks. "Make yourself scarce."

"It takes more than thirty to get me to leave, Josh."

"Jesus—what more do you want from me? A kidney?" Josh grunts a little bit as he rifles through his wallet for a fifty and another twenty."

"I mean, I was kidding, but, shit—I'll do anything for a hundred bucks."

Josh scoffs and says, "If you were kidding, give me my money back you ass!" but Tyler's already out of the living room and putting on shoes, keys on hand, by the time Josh is done saying that.

He sighs in despair before turning back to Brendon. "Why are you here, other than to tell Tyler to leave?"

Brendon walks around the couch, and plops down on it before he explains. "Ryan wants to move."

"And? What does this have to do with me?" Josh asks this in a  _tone._

"Kind of a lot. It's sort of a long story, but, um, the reason I haven't been talking to you is because he told me not to. Like, he gave me an ultimatum—either I quit being friends with you, or he leaves me. He's just... jealous I guess."

"And you listened to him?"

"What else was I supposed to do, Josh?" Brendon gives him a helpless look. "He basically controls my life. He pays the rent and pays the bills and most of the money and things I have at the moment have come from him. I can't just get rid of that out of nowhere. It'll ruin me."

"Well, that's unhealthy."

Brendon frowns a little bit, and gets defensive. "I could say the exact same thing about you and Tyler."

"For one thing, he isn't my boyfriend, I'm not basically his glorified sugar daddy nor do I pay for anything he does, I don't keep him from his friends because I get jealous, and  _our_ situation right now is a lot different than your situation with Ryan, so shut your fucking mouth."

"Why are you so testy?" Brendon looks away, and adjust his position.

"What do you expect from me? Do you expect me to choose someone who chose an asshole over his best friend, or do you expect me to choose someone who actually gives a shit about me?"

"I don't—I don't know. Anyways... He wants to move to Nevada. I don't even know anyone there, but he does, apparently, and he wants me to go with him."

"Do you want to go with him?"

"Yes, but also no."

"And why not?" Josh finally takes a seat on the other end of his couch.

"I want to go with him because I love him, and I don't want to lose him, but I don't want to go because I'll be alone, but it's also a chance to start over, so I don't know. I could be someone else, someone different than what I am now."

"I honestly don't give a shit about what you do, but you should really think this through."

"Ooof course you don't give a shit."

"It's not my life, alright? Is there more to this, or did you just come here to blab my ear off for a few minutes?"

"There's more."

"Alright, well, quit beating around the bush, and hop to."

"He's... mean to me."

"Elaborate."

"He yells at me and sometimes he even screams, and we fight a lot, and there's even been a few times that he's raised his fist to me. I mean, he hasn't ever actually hit me, but the threat is still there. He also says things."

"What sort of things?"

"Just... insults, basically. Mostly about my intelligence, and he likes to throw the fact that he pretty much owns me into my face whenever I try defending myself. Like, he threatens to cut me off."

"Why the fuck are you still with him, then?"

"It's complicated, alright?"

"Bullshit. He isn't a good person."

"He  _is,_ though. He is. He has soft and nice sides too, and he's sweet and romantic."

"In my opinion, the shitty parts of him outshine the good parts. He's a piece of shit."

"Quit calling him names, Josh. You're a piece of shit too."

"Yeah, but I don't yell and scream at my partner, nor do I abuse him or threaten him, because I at least know that shit isn't fucking cool. If you want to keep being oblivious, living in your little bubble, worshiping that piece of shit, then be my fucking guest. I'm not responsible for you, and if you refuse to see this situation for what it is, then I cannot help you, Brendon."

"You do a lot of the same shit he does, though. Like, if  _he's_ abusive, then so are you."

Josh rolls his eyes, and gets up to say,  _"How?"_ in a raised voice.

"You—you're leading Tyler on! He's just a kid, but you're leading him on as if you  _actually_ care about him. You haven't given a shit about anyone other than me, and we all know you don't give a shit about me anymore!" Brendon has a fierce look on his face, one that could kill.

"Where the  _fuck_ do you get off on accusing of not caring about him?" He runs his fingers through his hair, and lets out a breath. "He's the first person in a long,  _long_ time to give me the light of fucking day, and the first person who doesn't just assume shit about me like you and every one else I know does. I don't—I don't know if it's a jealousy thing or something, but  _I'm not yours._ We have  _nothing._ Being jealous of Tyler isn't getting you anywhere, because he isn't  _leaving._ Get the fuck out of my apartment, and move to fucking Nevada with the stockbroker. See if I fucking care." Josh is livid, because Tyler is one of his weak spots. He's pointing towards the door, and clenching his other fist, trying to resist the urge to deck Brendon in the jaw.

\---

 **Josh** <3: where are you

 **Tyler** : im at the diner eating why

 **Josh** <3: Can you come back please

 **Tyler** : is something wrong

 **Josh** <3: Brendon left for good. Just come back and finish your homework.

 **Tyler** : what do you mean 'for good'

 **Josh** <3: If you come home, I'll explain.

 

Tyler frowns at his shitty flip phone, and Pete asks him what he's looking at as he tries to lean over the counter to peek.

"Josh wants me to go home. Something about Brendon."

"Ah. Do you want me to pack your meal up so you can take it home with you?"

"Uh... Sure, actually. I haven't eaten today anyways, so I'd like to finish it."

\---

Tyler sits down in front of his trig homework for the second time that night, waiting for Josh to start explaining. The man is pacing behind the couch, stewing, and Tyler hits his breaking point pretty quickly. "Dude, will you quit pouting, and tell me what the fuck happened?"

"We got into a shouting match and I booted him out of my apartment."

"Is that it?" Tyler sounds bored. "Is that why you wanted me to drop everything and come back?"

"That's... not it, exactly, but I dunno. I don't want to tell you the rest of what happened."

"Josh, just tell me. I'm not going to judge you or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

"Ryan's apparently abusing him, basically, and Brendon argued with me over it and defended him. I blatantly told Brendon that Ryan was abusive, so he called  _me_ abusive, called whatever it is I have with you unhealthy, said some shit he had no right to say, then I told him to get out."

"What'd he say?"

"Stuff."

"So, basically, you said something emotional that you don't actually have the gall to say to my face. Am I right?"

"Essentially, yes."

"If you wanna say something emotional to me, then go ahead. The only thing stopping you is your pride."

Josh sighs and makes a bit of a face. "I care about you. A lot."

"I'm aware. I care about you too."  _He's such a child sometimes._

Josh walks around the couch and sits down, and Tyler sits next to him, holding his hand. "Brendon accused me of leading you on, then accused me of not being able to care about anyone, said I can't possibly care about you. He acts like I cheated on him or something, but I just-- I never had anything with him in the first place."

Tyler just sits there quietly, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm tired."

"Go to bed."

"Not that kind of Tired. I just... I'm so sick and tired of everyone assuming I don't have feeling. Do you know how much it stings to hear someone who I though was my best friend say something like that to me?"

"I can imagine."

"I try so hard, and I know I'm terrible at it, but I try being nice to people, and I try expressing affection, but Brendon—people doing shit like that—that's why I close myself off from everyone. I let myself trust people, but they always break it."

Tyler sighs silently, and sits up a little bit. He tosses a leg over Josh's thighs, and situates himself in the man's lap. He puts hands on either side of his face just as Josh is settling his hands on Tyler's hips, and they look each other in the eyes. Tyler speaks first after kissing him gently. "I don't think we have the healthiest or the most ideal relationship in the world, but you're not abusive, alright? You're not a bad person. You're misunderstood, flawed, and imperfect, sure, but you're not bad. You're just a human being. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with Brendon, and I don't really care about what's going on with him, but he had no right to say any of that to you. I, personally, don't think you're mean, or cruel, or emotionless, but rather incredibly kind and sort of sweet in a way. I think we should just go to bed, because I could always use some sleep, and you need to rest anyways. I can worry about my trig tomorrow, because it isn't due until Friday anyways."

Josh sighs, and takes to staring at Tyler's collarbone as tears start to well up in his eyes. Tyler notices this, and gets Josh to lean forward so he can hug him tight. "You're allowed to cry, Josh."

"I feel pathetic." Josh's voice is weak, and he's hugging Tyler back.

"Crying doesn't make you pathetic. If you need to, then do it."

"You make me too emotional."

"I'm just doing my job."

\---

They lay in bed that night, facing each other, and Tyler plays with the hair on Josh's head while the man talks. "I grew up being taught that expressing emotions meant I was going to get beat or made fun of."

"That's not true."

"I know. My father is a horrible person, though. I had to  _be a man,_ and crying was for fags and women. At least I have half of that down."

Tyler nods, and runs a thumb across Josh's cheekbone before the man continues.

"He still thinks that I'm straight, but that I haven't married yet."

"You're the gayest thing on this earth, J."

Josh huffs a little bit, and smiles sadly. "Thanks for the reassurance. I just... I wish I would've come out to my parents when I was younger. God, you're so much braver than I am or ever will be."

Tyler shrugs. "I'm just bad at hiding it. I love dick too much."

Josh cracks another grin, but it disappears pretty quickly. "I have a shitty and unfortunate life."

"No you don't. You have a good job, a good apartment, plus me. Like, I'm basically a trophy wife. I can cook and I'm pretty clean. I think you have a pretty alright life."

"Is it bad that I'm  _just now_ realizing that I don't have any real friends?"

"Nope. Not at all. I mean, I only have you, Pete, and Ashley."

"Yeah, but you're eighteen. You have time to make more friends. I'll be thirty in a few months."

"So? It doesn't matter. You can always make new friends, and I don't mean business friends or fuck buddies. I mean actual friends."

"I don't even know how to do that. I don't really talk to anyone, and no one I know bothers to talk to me."

"If you want to be friends with another eighteen year old, I could introduce you to Ashley. She's my supportive straight best friend. Or bi. It's whatever."

"I think you're my best friend, honestly."

"That's alright."

"You know what I really hate?"

"Hit me." Tyler kisses Josh on the forehead.

"I hate how when I try to be nice, or do nice things, or whatever else, I fuck up with my execution, so I come off as rude, and people just... get pissed at me for it."

Tyler nods and yawns a little bit. "I understand that."

"You must have the patience of a saint to put up with me."

"I don't feel like I'm putting up with you, though. You have shit on your plate, as do I, and I kind of thought the point of being more than friends was to support each other emotionally. And to also fuck on a highly regular basis."

Josh shakes his head before scooting forward to wrap an arm around Tyler's waist, and to kiss him softly and sweetly.

\---

"Josh, c'mon, worry about getting your dick sucked later," Tyler manages to whine over the loud, thumping music in the club. He's holding onto Josh's hand, trying to look cute.

Josh rolls his eyes and gives Tyler a dirty look. "I've been trying to nail that fucker all night, Tyler. You're ruining it."

"Nail someone else. Or me. Anyways, listen—I want to ask you a question."

Tyler stares up at Josh, waiting for the man to tell him to go ahead, but Josh just snaps, saying, "Well? Get the fuck on with it."

"Quit being a dick." Tyler rolls his eyes. "Prom's coming up, and I was kind of wondering if you wanted to go with me...?"

Josh visibly snorts and throws his head back in a form of mocking laughter. "Prom? Seriously? I'll be thirty in three months. I don't want to be stuck in a room of fucking eighteen year olds."

Tyler smirks to himself, then says, "I thought you liked fucking eighteen year olds."

"You know what I mean," Josh tells him. "Go ask some pretty girl to go with you."

"I don't  _want_ to go with some pretty girl. I want to go with  _you."_ Tyler tries giving him his best begging look, even though he knows it doesn't work on Josh in the slightest. (Or does it?)

"Too bad, Tyler. Go do homework or something." Josh yanks his hand free from Tyler's grasp, and walks off after that. Tyler glares holes into the back of his head.  _Asshole._

\---

"Why the long face, little dude?" Pete asks as he's placing Tyler's usual order in front of him.

"Fucking  _Josh."_ Tyler sighs and pouts a little bit. "I know he's, like, seventy two, but I asked him if he'd go to my senior prom with me, right? Although I'm well aware that he hates anything traditional or sentimental, I thought that maybe he'd say yes, because, hey, we're, like, an item, but he was being a dick about it. On top of being bummed about Josh shooting me down, I talked to my dad, and asked him if he had any of my suits, because I still want to go to prom, and he said that he did,  _but,_ my  _mom_ is refusing, like,  _refusing,_ to let me go get one of them, so I don't even have a fucking suit for the whole thing, and I doubt I can talk Josh into buying me one."

Tyler's, honestly, on the verge of tears. He's so frustrated right now—frustrated with Josh, frustrated with his parents, frustrated with his  _life._ He's pulled out of his train of thought, though, by Pete grabbing one of his hands and looking him in the eye. "You're going to that prom. Brendon left some of his old suits at my apartment, and then Patrick has, like, five hundred of them, so I'm sure we can find you something to wear."

"Brendon will have a fit," Tyler tells him.

"Oh,  _fuck_ Brendon. He left his shit there, and he hasn't come back to get it, so I think I reserve the right to give his suits away to a worthy cause."

Tyler cracks a half grin. "You don't have to do this, man."

"Of course I do." Pete nudges Tyler in the arm, lightly. "I skipped out on my senior prom, and I  _still_ regret it, well into my thirties. Even if Josh won't pull his head out of his ass and go with you, then you should at least go with a friend or something."

\---

The evening of Tyler's prom, he finds himself crammed into Pete's apartment with his father, Pete himself, Patrick, and Ashley. Josh is AWOL, which was to be expected, and Tyler couldn't really give less of a shit, because, hey, he's sort of mad at Josh.

Pete's just barely finished mixing and matching parts of suits until he'd found a combination that matched and fit Tyler perfectly, and when the eighteen year old is stepping out of the bedroom, Ashley's immediately on him, saying, "Oh, the things I'd do to you if you were straight," with a wicked grin on her face.

Tyler laughs and tells her that she looks beautiful. She's wearing a simple black cocktail dress, and she's wearing a brown wig that looks absolutely  _fantastic_ on her.

Tyler's father grins, proudly, which surprises Tyler a bit, and he stands up to pull his son into a hug. Patrick and Pete stand off to the side, looking like proud parents themselves. Patrick thinks to ask, "Who's driving the infants around tonight?"

Tyler's father raises a hand. "I may as well. I need to get home anyways."

\---

"Do you think Josh is going to show up?" Ashley asks, softly, over the sound of the slow song playing throughout the gymnasium of their high school.

"I don't give a shit right now. I just wanted  _one thing,_ and he shot me down without even thinking about it," Tyler says back to her. "I swear, I'm not putting out for a  _month._ He even said he wouldn't be caught dead in a room of fucking eighteen year olds. I'm trying not to be mad at him, because I can see where he's coming from, but my patience is wearing thin."

The song ends, so Tyler's respectfully removing his hands from her waist, and she's retracting her arms from where they were thrown over Tyler's shoulder. "Isn't he, like, forty?"

"Twenty nine."

"Well, still. He's your boyfriend. He should be here," She responds as the two teenagers head towards the punch bowl. "If I had a boyfriend, and he didn't take  _me_ to  _my_ senior prom, I would so break up with him."

"I'm not breaking up with Josh." Tyler rolls his eyes.

"Oh, I know you aren't. I'd kill you if you did, because he's, like, so fuckable." Ashley's met Josh on a few occasions, and each time, she's left swooning, and Tyler doesn't blame her. Josh is like... He's a trophy wife, sort of.

"Yeah, yeah."

"How are things with him anyways?"

"They're fine; the usual. We fuck a lot, I nurse him through his hangovers on the weekends, and he provides me with a roof over my head, so it's whatever."

Ashley's about to say something else, and judging by the look on her face, Tyler figures she's about to make a smart ass comment, but her eyes widen and she points towards the doors, saying, "I spoke too soon."

Tyler turns around and he gapes at the sight he's met with. Josh is standing there, in all of his six foot tall glory, looking absolutely dreamy, gorgeous, and sort of seductive. He's stepping into the gym, scanning the room, and Tyler's almost breathless. He can't believe this.

Josh spots him eventually, and he starts walking towards Tyler, purpose clear in his step. "I thought you said you weren't going to be here," Tyler mumbles as he's being handed a red and a white rose.

Josh shrugs, and slides his hands into his pockets. "Figured I'd relive my misspent youth."

Ashley whispers, "Have fun," into Tyler's ear before she's slipping away, leaving Tyler standing alone with Josh at the snacks table.

"You know that two roses, one red and white, mean unity, right?" Tyler asks, cheeks burning up, as he looks Josh in the eye.

Josh's eyebrows shoot up for a quick second before he shrugs. Tyler knows he'd never say anything, but he's pretty sure Josh knew what the roses meant, and that Josh did it on purpose, and it's causing him to step closer to the twenty nine year old, and to wrap arms around Josh's torso.

Josh returns the hug, and when Tyler pulls away, Josh kisses him on the forehead. Tyler's half tempted to go in for a kiss on the lips, and he almost does, but the next thing he knows, another slow song is being announced, and Josh is smirking as he leads him out and onto the floor.

"Are you sure want to dance in front of god and everyone?" Tyler asks quietly as he follows him.

"I'm sure," Josh replies with certainty.

Tyler's pretty sure that what unfolds over the course of the next five minutes or so is something out of a fairy tale. The two men end up in the middle of the floor, sharing a bunch of emotionally fond looks, Josh is smiling a little shyly at Tyler, and Tyler's looking up at him with adoration apparent on his face.

Tyler's grateful for all of the dance lessons his mother made him go to as a child. They're pulling some extravagant moves, and it's just...  _fabulous._ He has to wonder how the hell Josh knows how to  _dance_ like this. It's almost mind boggling. Even though they're in a room of however many other people, the moment still feels intimate and  _so_ romantic.

Tyler mouths some of the lyrics of the song (Take My Breath Away) to Josh during the slow dance, and the eighteen year old will swear up and down that the man in front of him  _blushed._

Right before the song ends, Josh dips his head really quick, and kisses Tyler, like, super passionately, and the boy swoons. For one thing, at that point, they already had almost everyone's attention, and Tyler just—he  _can't believe_ Josh just  _did that,_ in front of  _everybody._ He's fucking thrilled.

They hang around the gym for a few more songs, not slow ones, before Tyler's grabbing Josh's hand and tugging him into the hallway. The school is dark, with only a few lights on here and there, and Tyler's sure to send Ashley a text to tell her that he's going home with Josh.

\---

"I can't believe we danced to Take My Breath Away," Tyler's saying with a giggle and a quick kiss to Josh's lips as they're traipsing through the parking lot.

"It was pretty corny," Josh says as he cracks a half-grin, and as Tyler is pressing him against the side of his (Josh's) car.

"It was so romantic, though." Tyler looks genuinely happy, and he throws his arms over Josh's shoulders to pull the man into a deep kiss.

"It was  _ridiculously_ romantic, Tyler Joseph," Josh states matter-of-factly as he breaks the kiss. "I'm sorry I didn't show up sooner."

Tyler shrugs, and kisses him once more. "It means a lot to me that you showed up in the first place, Josh. I wasn't expecting to see you until I got home tomorrow."

Josh offers him one of his rare, soft, sweet, and unguarded grins, one of the ones that have been fairly common tonight, and after one final peck on the lips, he says, "Let's go home."

Tyler nods. He walks around Josh's car, and he's about to get in, but he remembers  _something,_ and after patting his pockets down, he says, "Shit, I left my wallet with Ashley. I'll be  _right_ back."

Josh nods, and gets into his car while Tyler trots back towards the building. He has his keys in the ignition, and he's just barely turned his car on when he sees a shadowy figure walking up to Tyler with a baseball bat in hand, and Josh barely manages to get out of his car, shouting Tyler name. It's too late, though, because the second Tyler turns around to see what the hell Josh was yelling at him for, and in such a panicked tone, the bat has been swung, and all Josh can register is  _blood_ and  _fear_ and  _oh fuck, oh fuck, no, please, not him._

Josh runs as fast as he can, which is pretty fast, given he's pretty athletic, and he shoves the stupid fucking teenager to the ground, and manages to bust one of kid's kneecaps with the bat that he'd dropped before he, himself, is dropping to the ground to look at Tyler.

He can barely see over the dim light of the streetlamps nearby, but there's a lot of blood,  _too much,_ and he's quick about having his phone out to dial 911.


	2. Part II

_**Part II** _

_**(Chapters 10-22)** _

_**Word Count: ~33,800** _

_**\---** _

Brendon has his carry on, and he's just barely out of the metal detector in the airport when his phone is ringing. He already knows it's Josh, given the ringtone, and, alright, he chose one _hell_ of a fucking time to call. Brendon answers his phone, snapping at Josh, saying, "What?"

_"I'm--I'm freaking the fuck out. So much is happening right now. I need help."_

Brendon can hear the way his voice shakes, and he can tell that Josh is _at least_ tearing up right now, but he still goes with his instinct, his default reaction of snapping. "I'm about to board my flight to Nevada, Josh."

_"Shit. I shouldn't have called."_

"Wait. Where are you at, and what do you need?"

_"I'm at--at the one hospital downtown. I just--I need a shoulder to cry on. I'm scared."_

Brendon curses under his breath, and starts walking back through the terminal, and towards where his car was supposed to remain for an undetermined amount of time. "Josh, what happened?"

_"It's Tyler. I went to his stupid fucking prom, last minute, because I knew it'd make him happy and I even bought him a few roses and it was--it was all nice and shit but--but some kid--when we were in the parking lot, he had to, like, go back inside to get his wallet and some kid took a bat to his head and now he's in surgery and no one knows if he's--if he's gonna--"_

"Quit talking and just wait for me, alright?"

_"Okay."_

\---

Josh is sitting in the waiting room with his palms pressed to his eyes, trying not to cry.. Tyler's friend, Ashley, he thinks, is sitting next to him, and he lets her rub his back with one of her hands. She's nice and he can see why Tyler's friends with her. Pete's there too, but he's sitting next to Tyler's dad, who has Tyler's little brother sitting in his lap. He can vaguely register the sounds of Tyler's dad trying to reassure Tyler's little brother, Zack or something, that Tyler's going to be alright.

Josh is in the middle of working on breathing exercises that Ashley had quietly instructed him to try working on, and ones that he already picked up from the one time he went to a counseling session when he was twenty and dealing with anxiety, when Brendon shows up. Sure, Josh isn't overly fond of the slightly older man, but, when it comes down to it, Brendon is still his best friend.

Ashley's hand doesn't disappear when Brendon's wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Josh looks up, and for half a second, he's dumbly expecting Tyler to be sitting there with a dumb grin on his beautiful face, telling him that either of them are going to be alright, but he's only faced with Brendon stupid face looking all concerned. "Any news?"

Josh shakes his head, and leans back, motioning towards Ashley, meaning for her to answer.

"Uh, no. He's--he's still in there. No one has said anything."

Brendon nods, and focuses on Josh again. "Do you need water?"

"I want a drink."

Brendon huffs a little bit. "I'll get you a bottle of water. Pretty sure they don't sell liquor here."

Josh just nods meekly.

\---

A doctor comes out eventually, and looks at a clipboard before saying, "Which one of you is Tyler Joseph's next of kin?"

Tyler's father stands up, saying, "Should be me. I'm his father."

They try talking in hushed tones, and all Josh picks up is that Tyler _might_ have brain damage, but, despite that, the doctor is still cautiously optimistic.

For two weeks after that, Tyler is, literally, comatose, and even when he wakes up, Josh doesn't visit him. It's not that he doesn't want to, it's just that he kind of can't handle it. On the upside, though, Tyler doesn't, in fact, have brain damage. He does have a wicked case of amnesia and post traumatic stress, though.

\---

Brendon spends a grand total of one month in Nevada before he hits a breaking point with Ryan that causes him to pack his shit and move back to Columbus. The first night after he's moved back in with Pete, he decides to go out for a drink, and ends up finding one Joshua William Dun sitting at the bar, tweaked and drunk, staring dejectedly into his usual glass of scotch.

Warily, Brendon says his name.

Josh looks up at him, then looks away just as quickly. He figures Brendon's probably going to pester him anyways, so arguing or telling him to go away is pointless. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Mm... Gone through... fifty bucks so far? Give or take," he slurs out with a shrug.

"Well, I'm taking you home, so get up. _Now."_

For once, Josh listens to him.

\---

Brendon helps Josh up to his apartment, which is a fucking chore, given that Josh is over six feet tall and weighs almost two hundred pounds, most of that being muscle mass. He manages it, though. He manages to get Josh into his bedroom, and helps him out of his clothes, mostly since he's too fucked up to do it on his own.

He leaves the room for a minute or two to get Josh a bottle of water from the fridge, and once he's back in the room, he asks, "Where's Tyler?" because the last he heard, Tyler was living with Josh.

Josh, of course, slurs out a response. "Moved back in with his dad. His mom left them, and took his baby brother."

"Have you seen him?"

Josh shakes his head, and turns away so Brendon can't see his face. "No. I--I miss him _so fucking much,_ but I can't look at him without wanting to throw up. I just--I keep picturing him getting hit with that stupid bat _over and over_ and I just... I could've lost him."

Brendon sits behind where Josh is laying, and squeezes his shoulder. "There's nothing you could've done, man."

\---

There's one weekend where Josh doesn't go out, mostly since he needs time to wallow in self pity, and the first night of that weekend happens to be the one night his doorbell goes off. He's a little drunk, just as usual, as he stumbles towards his door. He opens it, prepared to tell Brendon or whoever the fuck else to fuck off and leave him alone, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees that it's _Tyler._ Tyler's just _standing there,_ looking almost terrified, yet excited.

He smiles a little bit, and sounds as if he's about to cry as he says Josh's name.

 _Go away. I can't look at you. I keep picturing it. Quit reminding me._ "Uh."

"Can I--can I come in? I just... I need a safe place. It's one of those situations. I needed away from my dad and Pete and fucking Ashley. They keep hovering and it's too overwhelming."

Josh breaks eye contact, and steps aside to allow Tyler to walk in.

"It still smells the same in here," he mutters.

Josh doesn't acknowledge his comment. "Does your dad know you're here?"

"No, he doesn't. I snuck out and caught a bus like usual."

Josh just nods.

A few minutes of silence pass, and once Tyler's taken a seat at one of Josh's bar stools, he asks, "Why didn't you come see me?"

"I tried, but I was too scared. It's a piss poor excuse."

"I won't argue with that. Why won't you _look_ at me?"

"I keep picturing what happened whenever I see you, and it makes me feel sick."

"I don't remember any of it. The last thing I remember is you blowing me off when I asked you to go with me. From what I've heard, though, we had a pretty good time."

"It was, uh, pretty fabulous. You should've been there."

"Ashley said you kissed me in front of everyone. Is that true? You're usually so nitpicky about PDA."

"It's true, yeah."

Josh is visibly shaking, so Tyler slides off of the bar stool, and steps over to him. He wraps his arms around the man's torso, and hugs him. He whispers, "It's not your fault, Josh. I know you better than you think and I know you're blaming yourself. Shit happens, and it wasn't your fault."

Josh returns the hug, hugging back tighter than he intended. He's missed Tyler more than he can even express. He has to wonder how the hell Tyler is just so _calm,_ and how he's seemingly come to terms with everything that happened. There's a part of Josh that never wants to let go of Tyler, never wants to quit holding him. "I'm so glad you're alright. I was so fucking scared."

"I'm as alright as I can be."

\---

Josh spends his night holding onto Tyler and trying not to start crying. Tyler hushes him, but eventually falls asleep. _That night,_ for the first time in awhile, Tyler sleeps soundly, and Josh refuses to let go of him.

In the morning Josh takes Tyler home, because he figures Tyler's father is worried sick about him, and, hey, he's had time with Tyler, so, y'know, _it's time._

Josh is just expecting Tyler to get out of his car, and he expects that he's going to be able to just drive off and go home, but he gets stopped, and, essentially, Tyler's father tells him that he doesn't want Josh seeing Tyler, or being there, ever again.

\---

Tyler tries going to Josh's apartment again, but the door gets slammed in his face after Josh tells him he never wants to see him again.

Tyler knew he was lying from the way his face wavered, and when he gets home again, he bellows, _“Christopher fucking Joseph!”_ up the stairs.

His father comes pretty much running down the stairs, worried that something might be wrong with Tyler.

“You told him never to see me again didn't you?” He has tear tracks down his face, and he's yelling probably the loudest he ever has before.

“It's what's best, Tyler. This is--is his fault. You would've never gotten into this mess if it wasn't for him.”

“He's not the one who swung a bat and hit me in the head! I _asked_ him to go to that prom with me. He fucking cares about me!”

“Tyler--” His dad goes to try hugging the boy, but Tyler shoves him away, knocking him into the stair rail.

The boy yells and screams and cries until he just _can't_ anymore, and after that, he goes to bed. That's about all he can do.

He doesn’t dream that night. He doesn’t really even rest. He’s just… unconscious, for the most part. At seven o’clock on the dot, he wakes up, and can’t even bring himself to get out of bed.

Josh. He’s gone. He’s alive and all, sure, but Tyler has seemingly lost him. _I love him and now I’m apparently not allowed to see him for some bullshit reason. I hate this. Why can’t I have that one thing? I can’t even go more than two days without having a panic attack, and I can barely leave my room. He’s the one good thing I have left._

_\---_

Josh is going over a few legal documents in his office when Debby, his lovely, hard ass assistant, pokes her head in, saying, "Hey, Josh? The Lebanese restaurant guy is here to talk to you, but it's not about his restaurant. Says it's something personal. Do you want me to send him in? He doesn't have an appointment."

Josh sits there for a moment, wondering what the hell Tyler's father could  _possibly_ want from him, especially right now, so as he starts nervously tapping his pen, he simply says, "Send him in."

Josh sits there for three minutes before the man is rearing his head in his office. Stiffly, Josh is asking, "Why are you here?"

"I want you to take Tyler." His tone is blunt and he looks tired, too tired, especially considering he's barely in his forties, or Josh assumes, at least.

"Close the door," Josh instructs as he begins to clear his desk of paperwork and stray pens. While he's sticking a packet of papers into a drawer on his desk, he says, "Sit," with a quick finger pointed towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Now that you're seated, and now that my desk is cleared, would you mind telling me what the  _fuck_ you're talking about?"

"He won't--he won't talk to anyone and he won't even leave his room unless he's hungry, needs to use the restroom, or unless I force him, and he's about as stubborn as an old mule, so that's a chore in and of itself. He doesn't trust  _anyone_ either, not me, definitely not his mother, barely trusts Ashley, and she's his best friend for Christ's sake! I do know,  _though,_ that he trusts  _you."_

"So, what? Do you want me to be a stand-in therapist?" Josh gives the man a distasteful look as he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs and his arms.

"That's not what I said. He already has a therapist. If I had it my way, you'd never even  _see_ him again, but, for whatever reason, you make him happy, and I think that keeping you from him wasn't the best choice. I want to do this for  _him."_

"I went  _out of my way_ to drive a wedge between the two of us  _just_ to cater to your wishes; what makes you think he even wants anything to do with me?"

"He came home, chewed me out, just about socked me in the jaw, then yelled and screamed until he couldn't. Either he's unhealthily obsessed with you, or he's in love. Take your pick."

Josh presses his palms against his eyes, and Mr. Joseph keeps speaking.

"He needs someone who can care for him. You seem like a tight lipped sonuva bitch, but I  _know_ you care about him. You look at him the exact same way I used to look at my wife."

"You're his father!" Josh raises his voice, obviously overwhelmed.

"I know I am, and this isn't about him needing a  _parent._ I've been trying, trust me, I really have, but he needs to put forth an effort too, which he hasn't been doing, and probably  _won't,_ at least not now. With you, I know where he is, and I know he's safe."

"If I agree to this," Josh starts, "you're still paying for his doctor appointments, therapist appointments, and whatever other medical expenses he has." Josh gives him an even stare.

\---

"Same rules as before," Josh starts as he opens the door to his apartment, letting Tyler follow him inside. "Clean up after yourself, don't get into my shit, do your homework, no bringing tricks here to fuck, and no waking me up at odd hours of the night because you're too hammered to be quiet."

"Alright," the eighteen year old is responding, meekly, as he sets his backpack, which contains mostly clothes, onto the ground next to the island in Josh's kitchen.

"New rules, too. No sleeping all day, because it's fucking depressing. At least get up and watch TV or something. Shower daily. If I catch one whiff of armpit that's older than two days, you're going to hear about it. Eat regularly too. I'm not saying get fat or anything, but you look like you need to put on a few pounds." Josh is meandering around his kitchen now, getting a scotch glass from one of the cupboards. Scotch tends to be his drink of choice.

Tyler takes a seat at one of the bar stools. "I'll try, I guess. I've, uh, been pretty depressed lately for obvious reasons."

"Your father told me. Look, I'm not expecting you to be perfect, but you need to try, alright?" Josh gives Tyler a rare, soft look.

Tyler nods. "What about us...?"

Josh sighs as he's opening his fridge to grab a bottle of scotch. "I don't know."

"You got any vodka?" Tyler asks before he starts getting into the  _deep_ stuff.

Josh waves towards his fridge with the directions of, "Don't drink too much."

When Tyler's sitting back down with the bottle of vodka in hand, he asks, "Do you still like me?"

Josh nods, but doesn't make eye contact.

"Josh, I love you. I'm not--I'm not in love with you, but I really,  _really_ do love you."

"Are you sure about that?" Josh asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"One hundred percent. I've had plenty of time to think, I guess." Tyler picks at one of his nails. "Can we go back to what we had? No labels, but still being a thing?"

"If you want."

"What about you, Josh? What do you want?"

"To be with you." Josh seems a little sheepish now. "Not... Not monogamously or anything, but you know what I mean."

Tyler leans forward, hand stretched across the island, towards Josh. "Partners?"

"Thought you said no labels."

"Indulge me. I need a word that isn't too specific, but still specific enough for me to use to explain if I have to."

Josh rolls his eyes a bit, and smirks as he shakes Tyler's hand. "Partners."

Tyler gets a sly look on his face after that. "Do you want to, uh... you wanna go consummate the Joseph-Dun union?"

Josh snorts and fails to hold back a giggle and a wide, genuine grin. "Yeah. I've missed you." He sets his glass down, which is empty by now, and steps around the counter to tug Tyler up and out of his seat. Josh pulls him close, kissing him sweetly, and Tyler reciprocates. They don't take a whole lot of time working their way back to the bedroom, and once they're actually in the room, Josh flushes red and asks, "Do you, um, want to like..."

"Wanna what?" Tyler's working on getting one of his legs out of his pants at that point.

"I--I don't know..." Josh scratches the back of his head and lets his gaze drop to his feet. "I wanted to know if you wanted to top."

Tyler barks out a laugh, mostly at the situation, and the way Josh is acting.

Josh steps forward enough to jab Tyler in the arm. "Don't laugh at me, dick."

"I'm not, I'm not. I just wasn't expecting you to say that. Also, you're blushing. You  _never_ blush. It's adorable. Are you sure, though? My dick ain't exactly small." As an afterthought, Tyler mumbles, "Though, yours isn't either."

"I've been up close and personal with your dick plenty of times, Tyler," Josh responds as he's taking his shirt off, and just before he goes to unbuckle his belt. Josh steps out of his jeans, but doesn't make any moves to pull his briefs off.

"I know; I was there."

Josh huffs and crawls across his bed to lay in the middle of it on his back, waiting for Tyler to hop to.

Curiously, Tyler asks, "Why do you suddenly want to let me top?" as he's situating himself between Josh's thighs, which end up partially wrapped around his hips.

Josh shrugs, looking up and into Tyler's eyes. "I trust you, I guess."

"So... this is, like... a trust thing?" Tyler scoots a little closer, running hands up and down Josh's bare stomach and chest, as a gesture of affection and intimacy.

"Kind of, yeah." Josh shifts awkwardly.

Tyler can see the look on Josh's face, and he can tell there's more to it than he's letting on, but he doesn't push. He leans back, though, and motions for Josh to sit up. Josh asks him why, but Tyler shushes him and kisses him gently.

Josh pulls away from the kiss after a minute or two. "Don't you want to fuck me...?"

"Trust me, every fiber of my being wants to see you on your back like a common whore, begging for it, but we haven't seen each other in a long time, and I know you don't bottom, like, ever, so I'm not going to just rush it. I wanna take my time."

Josh's voice takes on a scornful tone at what he says next. "What? You wanna  _make love_ to me?"

"I know you're being sarcastic, and an asshole, but yeah, I do. Are you going to stop me?" Tyler gives him a challenging look, waiting for him to protest, to say something.

Josh's cheeks go red,  _again,_  and he breaks eye contact, mumbling a quiet, "No."

"Alright then." Tyler pecks him on the cheek, then nudges him until he's laying flat on his back again. After Tyler's grabbed a condom and the bottle of lube that Josh tends to favor, he asks, "How often do you bottom?"

"I was twenty two or twenty three last time, I think."

"Seriously? Seven years?" Tyler looks shocked. "I mean, I know you're all... large and in charge, but...  _seven years?"_

"Too many bad experiences of people not knowing what the hell they're doing," Josh defends himself. "Have you ever even topped anyone before?"

"A few times. Like I said when I first met you--I'm versatile. I haven't had any complaints either." Tyler smiles softly and scoots back enough to where he's easily able to pull Josh's briefs off before tugging his own off. "Anyways, are you sure you want to, y'know... go through with this?"

Josh nods. "Yeah. I'm sure." He lays there, not moving, aside from absently picking at one of his nails, hands resting on his stomach, just waiting for Tyler to make a move.

Tyler bends down and kisses Josh, an action he's never going to get tired of. Josh is, like, barely hard, if at all, and Tyler sort of wants to get Josh to the point of squirming and begging, rather than being soft and not enjoying it. He starts with his hand around Josh's soft cock, slick with a bit of lube, since dry hand jobs suck, and since Tyler is a firm believer in, like, not dry hand jobs.

He's working his hand slow, relishing in the soft sighs he's getting from Josh, and trying his best not to smirk at the way Josh is eating up the attention. Tyler does let himself grin when Josh accidentally whines as the younger male is pulling away from the kiss to trail his lips down Josh's body. Tyler takes his time doing that, sucking hickeys into the pale flesh of Josh's chest, taking the time to suck on and nip at either of his nipples, knowing that's one of those things that gets the man riled up, before leaving another trail of hickeys down his stomach until he's reached the fine line of hair that leads from his navel. At this point, Josh is hard, and leaking onto Tyler's fist, which is still slowly working him. "I can still stop if you want."

Josh's head shoots up from his pillows, and he  _glares_ at Tyler. "If you stop I will fucking kill you. You  _cannot_ tease me like this, then say that."

Tyler grins and giggles and then he has his lips wrapped around the head of Josh's cock, which is painfully red, making Tyler almost feel bad about teasing the man in front of him. He starts to shallowly bob his head, stroking whatever he can't easily fit into his mouth with his left hand, his  _dominant_ hand, as he feels around towards his right for the bottle of lube. Josh is moaning lowly and quietly in the back of his throat.

He finds it eventually, and has to take Josh's cock out of his mouth so he can see what he's doing as he pouring a little bit of the silicone based lube onto his fingers. Tyler presses the tip of one of his lube soaked fingers against Josh's tight hole, only slowly sliding it in after a permissive nod. He moves it around for a bit, rubbing and stroking at Josh's walls until his finger brushes against a certain  _spot._

Josh's entire body jerks, and he lets out a quiet, "Oh, fuck, Tyler," before he's moving the back of his arm against his mouth to muffle himself.

Tyler strokes that same spot for a while, until Josh is getting him in the side with one of his legs, and Tyler gets the hint to slide in a second finger. He slowly thrusts his fingers in and out, hitting that same spot each time, while stroking Josh's cock with his other hand, just to make sure he doesn't flag.

"Josh, you're allowed to make noise, y'know."

Josh lets out a sigh in lieu of a moan, and he replies with, "It's embarrassing."

"You have no problem making noise when you're in my position, and, also, if I can call you 'daddy' while letting you pull my hair and spank me,  _while_ taking your dick like a champ, then I think you can make a little noise." Tyler watches Josh's face, smiling at him a little bit when the man rolls his eyes and adjusts one of his legs.

After that, though, Josh lets himself be a little more vocal. Tyler works his fingers in and out of the man at a faster pace, eventually working up to three fingers, drawing long and guttural noises out of Josh. Tyler likes watching him as he gets more and more into it. It's cute.

Tyler keeps those actions up, fucking Josh on his fingers, sucking at his cock, and letting the man pull and tug at his hair, up until Josh hits his breaking point, pathetically saying, "Will you just fuck me already?"

"Patience, young grasshoper," Tyler says in a silly tone as he slowly pulls his fingers out of his partner, wiping them on the sheets.

"I am eleven and a half years older than you, you little shit." Josh snorts with a teeny tiny little grin.

Tyler sticks his tongue out at Josh before he's ripping open the packet that the condom comes in, rolling it onto his own cock, and drizzling lube onto it. "You're still cool with everything that's happening, right?"

Josh nods. "Yeah, yeah, I am. I am." He lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Tyler's gripping his hips with his hands, which are surprisingly rough to the touch, pulling him closer, and he lets out a bit of a hissing noise when Tyler starts pressing the tip of his lube and condom covered cock into his hole. "Slow, slow," he's saying as he places his hands on Tyler's waist, since he doesn't really know where else to put them.

Tyler nods, running a hand through Josh's hair kissing him on the lips gently. "I know, J, I know. I'm going as slow as I can."

Josh doesn't need the reassurance, or, well, he doesn't think so at least, but he still finds that he feels grateful when Tyler's pretty much whispering, "It'll feel good soon. You're already doing so good," into one of his ears.

And Tyler, himself, is surprised at how  _normal_ everything feels. He figured topping Josh would've felt weird, given that the man is a solid five inches taller than him, at least, and that he's way more muscular, but it just doesn't. It really doesn't. A lot of things with Josh feel about as natural as breathing to Tyler.

Tyler spends a while lazily kissing Josh after he bottoms out, relishing in the feeling of Josh's hands roaming all over his back, and once he gets the okay, he starts thrusting his hips about as slow as molasses.

Josh lets out the cutest little gasps (at least in Tyler's opinion) that turn into soft, barely there moans. Tyler keeps his pace deliberately slow, mostly for Josh's sake, but as he starts picking the pace up, the moans and muttered swear words spilling from Josh's pretty lips grow in quantity and volume.

Things still feel normal, but seeing Josh so  _vulnerable,_ putting so much of his trust into Tyler's hands, is still  _weird._ Tyler doesn't find the feeling unwelcome, but he's never had Josh open up to him like this before. It's just...  _odd._

\---

"Thank you, Pete," Josh says quietly as Pete sets his usual meal in front of him at the diner.

Pete raises his eyebrows. "Did you just... thank me...?"

"Yeah. What of it?" Josh frowns, and Tyler keeps his face blank as he skims a magazine, waiting for Pete to challenge Josh's sudden good mood.

"Uh, nothing. It's just... you've never thanked me before."

Josh shrugs.

"Tyler."

"Huh?" Tyler looks up at Pete.

"How you doin' today?"

"I'm fine. Have an appointment later, then I gotta go get a few things from my dad's house. Uh... How are you?"

"Good, good. Just, uh, doing my job."

Tyler squints when Pete walks off.

\---

Tyler doesn't fully realize how much of a stink he raised after being the victim of a hate crime until after a verdict has been reached during the trial. It wasn't a very long trial--a few days, if that, but Tyler still finds himself pushing past a group of reporters, trying not to start crying, as he's stepping out of the courthouse, tailed closely by his father, his lawyer who is named Jenna and who is apparently married to Josh's assistant who is named Debby, Pete, Ashley,  _Brendon_ even, and then, finally, Josh, who wasn't even planning to show up to the damn thing in the first place.

The kid's lawyer copped a plea deal; if he pleaded guilty to simple assault, the court wouldn't seek a prison sentence. The judge went for it, and he was sentenced to five hundred hours of community service and two years of probation. It wasn't considered a hate crime, and  _someone_ sited lack of evidence. He gets off with a slap on the wrist, and Tyler gets off with post traumatic stress disorder.

\---

Somehow, everyone ends up at Josh's apartment, save for Tyler's lawyer, who went home, mumbling something about her son before giving Josh a  _look._ (Tyler didn't get why Josh got a look out of her, but he figured he'd find out eventually.)

Anyways--Brendon, Ashley, Tyler's father, and Pete are all crammed into Josh's living room, and Tyler hits a breaking point just before he shouts, "Will all of you just fucking  _go home?!"_ He's looking between everyone, save for Josh, since Josh lives there and since Josh is the only one Tyler has the patience to be around at the moment.

Ashley stands up and tries to go near him, since she knows she's one of the only people Tyler trusts at the moment, but Tyler moves away just as quick. She still asks him to sit down and chill.

 _"Chill?_ Really? The guy who almost  _killed me_ just got off with a slap on the fucking wrist, and all of you want me to just  _relax._ What would help me  _relax_ is if all of you  _left_ and quit babying me!"

"Quit acting like a child, and act like an adult about this, Tyler."

Tyler's head whips towards Brendon, and it takes him less than a few seconds before he's marching over to where the man is sitting to slap him across the face.

Josh stands up after that, and puts an arm across his chest to pull him back. He bends his head down a bit to quiet mutter,  _"Go to a different room,"_ in his ear. Once Tyler's gone, Josh turns to everyone else. "Brendon, I want to have a word with you later, but for now,  _all of you_ need to leave before I call the cops on all of you for trespassing, and before I call my lawyer."

\---

Josh sits on the side of his bed on the side that Tyler's claimed for himself. One of his hands is resting on Tyler's shoulder blade as the eighteen year old cries into a pillow. "I got them to leave. I told Brendon that I want a word with him. He can be a nice guy, but he doesn't know when to shut up."

Tyler just nods into the pillow his face is smushed into. While Josh is kicking his shoes off and taking his blazer off, Tyler starts babbling, all muffled and pathetic. "The past two months of--of my life have been--have been  _hell_ because of--because of  _him,_ and--and--and then  _this."_

Josh climbs over Tyler so he can lay on the other side of him. He has an arm over Tyler's back, and his face is pressed against one of Tyler's shoulders. His voice is softer than he intended, and quieter as well, almost a whisper, as he replies to the boy. "I know. I wish I could fix it for you."

"I just..." Tyler rolls onto his side to where he's facing Josh, and once Josh has adjusted his own position, he continues. "I--I thought he'd get a prison sentence, but he just--he  _didn't--_ and it's such  _bullshit."_

"It's unfair."

"This wouldn't have happened if I wasn't gay." At this point, Josh actually takes in Tyler's face. His eyes are puffy and red, and his cheeks are flushed and splotchy. "If I was straight, he would've been charged with battery and thrown in fucking prison."

"If I knew what was going on other than the fact you were potentially dying in my arms, I would've told the police officer it was a hate crime. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, so don't start." Tyler sighs, and reaches a hand up so he can wipe at his nose. "It's 2001, you know? It isn't the fucking fifties anymore."

Josh scoots closer and tugs Tyler forward until he can hold him against his chest. "I know." Josh rubs his back a little bit. "I wish I had more to say."

Tyler shakes his head and tightens his grip on Josh. "I don't want you feeding me a bunch of shit, so don't worry. I do want you to let me borrow one of your t-shirts, though."

Josh scoffs a little bit. "Why?"

"Because you're way bigger than I am, and all of mine are too tight."

"You callin' me fat?" Josh is joking, and Tyler realizes that when he sees Josh's raised eyebrows after the man has scooted away to look at him.

"No, but you're six feet tall, Josh. I'm six or seven inches shorter than you and I'm underweight. You're muscular, so, like... I dunno. You're a pretty big guy, alright?"

Josh rolls his eyes but cracks a bit of a grin. he kisses Tyler on the forehead before he's up and throwing a  _Rush_ shirt in Tyler's direction.

Once Tyler's out of his own clothes and putting Josh's t-shirt on, Josh realizes that, even after having been crying, he looks adorable in the t-shirt. He doesn't voice this thought.

\---

During the first week of June, the usual crew piles into Pete's living room. The usual crew consists of Josh, Tyler, Pete, Patrick, Brendon, and, more recently, Ashley, Josh's assistant, Debby, and Jenna, who moonlights as Tyler's lawyer. Tyler's father is there as well, but he's generally not included in the  _usual crew._

Tyler's groaning and scrunching his face up a little bit as he asks, "Did you  _seriously_ join PFLAG?"

"Yes, Tyler. I'm proud to have a gay son, and I don't care who knows it, alright?" Tyler gets a pointed look out of him, causing Tyler to just squint and to avert his gaze as he leans back into Josh's chest, who is sitting behind him, on the floor, against the front of one of the armchairs in Pete's apartment. Ashley's behind Josh, and in a way, Tyler figures it's not too far of a stretch to say she's sort of a third party in the friendship Tyler has with Josh. Or maybe Josh is the third party. Who knows.

Josh messes Tyler's hair up, much to the younger's displeasure, saying, "At least your dad loves you, Tyler."

"Yours doesn't even know you're gay, so fuck off, Josh."

Pete rolls his eyes and shushes everyone. "What are we all doing for pride?"

In unison, Tyler and Brendon both say, "I'm not going."

"Tyler, you're going, and you're marching with your dad and the rest of hi PFLAG chapter. Brendon, I don't give a shit about what you do, but you should go." Pete's looking back and forth between them with a stern look on his face.

"What do I even have to be proud of? I almost got killed for being gay, and my own mother kicked me out of my home for it too."

"You should be proud of the fact that you're alive, and we all know there's nothing wrong with being gay, so quit being a dick," Brendon snaps.

"Calm the fuck down and crawl out of my ass." Tyler gives him a dirty look.

Josh snorts from behind him.

Tyler cranes his head back to look up at the man. "Are you going, or are you going to pull your usual move of skipping out on everything?"

He shrugs, not giving Tyler a straight answer, and Tyler decides not to press the issue.

"What about the lesbians?" Brendon pipes up.

 _"Well,_ if Jenna wasn't being an ass about it, either of us would be in the parade."

"I just think it's... improper to walk around in that  _get up_ you were talking about, alright? Not as if I'm in perfect shape either."

"I have me a belly full of stretchmarks, and I'm still doing it."

Tyler tries not to grin at their interaction. He finds it sort of cute.

"Quit being a square, Jenna." Patrick speaks for the first time since everyone had piled into the room.  _"I'm_ going in drag. If I can go in drag, then you can do whatever it is Deb wants you to do."

"Wait wait wait--hold up-- _you?_ In  _drag?"_

"Yes, Tyler. Me. In drag."

"I can't see it."

Pete makes some weird noise before grinning a shit eating little grin before he's rushing to a different room and coming back out with a stack of pictures from a disposable camera in his hand. He hand them to Tyler. "These are from last year. He looked so awesome."

 _"Pete!"_ Patrick marches over to snatch the pictures from Tyler, who just giggles.

"Hey, listen, Pete's right. You look pretty awesome."

\---

"I'm not doing it, Josh."

"Your dad is right there. Go march with him or I'm gonna kick you out."

"For one thing, you  _wouldn't,_ and for another, why aren't  _you_ marching with anyone?"

"My parents are both god fearing homophobes who definitely aren't in PFLAG, and  _your_ dad isn't  _my_ dad, so go march with him before he's too far ahead for you to catch up."

Tyler makes a face, and whines a bit before smacking a kiss onto Josh's cheek before he's trotting over to his dad. He gets a side hug, and a grin shot his way. "Glad you tucked your tail and got over here."

"Figured it was better than listening to Josh piss and moan about the heat and about no one hitting on him."

Tyler's father chuckles and smirks slightly. The two of them walk in silence, up until there's a drag queen walking on the other side of Tyler. Well, it's still quiet, but Tyler keeps looking at the person, since he, or she, looks familiar. It only licks when the woman on the other side of them is saying,  _"Brendon,_ oh my  _god,"_ then something in a different language. The name along makes Tyler let out a wheezing laugh.

Brendon turns to give Tyler a fierce look. "If you tell anyone, I'll beat you up. I swear."

"Why are you in drag?" Tyler's still laughing.

"Patrick couldn't come and Pete holds a little power over me." After this, Brendon introduces Tyler to the lady on the other side of him, saying, "Tyler, this is my mother. She's the president of this PFLAG chapter, or whatever the hell you want to call it."

Tyler's surprised that he has enough coordination to reach in front of Brendon, while still walking, to shake the woman's hand. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. urie."

She makes a face and waves Tyler off. "Please just call me Grace."

\---

There’s music blaring up and down the block, and present time, Tyler is in one of the bars, finishing off a beer he’d copped from Josh. When he goes to walk away, Josh grabs his arm. “Where are ya goin’?”

“To go pick up a guy.”

The man pouts a little. “C’mon, have another beer with me."

Tyler snorts. “Josh, it’s pride, and the whole  _street_ is swarming with queers. I  _know_ you. Go find some cute boy and ask him to dance, then fuck him for me, alright?”

Tyler doesn’t catch the dejected look Josh gives him, but the man does startle the hell out of him once he’s on the street.  _“Hey, cute boy,”_ There’s arms being thrown over his shoulders from behind, and Tyler just thinks,  _‘You have to be kidding me.’_

He turns around. “Josh, what are you doing?”

“Asking a cute boy to dance.”

Tyler looks around the crowded street, to make absolutely sure Josh is talking about  _him._ “Seriously? You aren’t going to try finding some other hot guy?”

“I could do that any day of the week, Ty.”

Tyler scoffs. “You’re unbelievable sometimes.” He pulls Josh into a kiss, and spiritually smirks at the few people around them who are cheering and egging them on.

\---

Josh is the kind of person who doesn't like to let other people see him vulnerable. Tyler's an exception, but they're also, like,  _together,_ and aside from Tyler, he doesn't let anyone see him vulnerable. Hell, he rarely even lets  _Tyler_ see him vulnerable, and he lives with the dude for Christ's sake.

It's the second time he's asked Tyler to top, because whether or not he wants to admit it, he's sort of just craving  _intimacy,_ and not in an entirely sexual way either. He likes the way it makes him feel. He likes how it makes his face flush and how it makes his heart race. He likes that it makes him  _feel_ something other than vague resentment at nothing in particular.

Of course, he also thinks it's stupid and unnecessary to feel like that, but somewhere deep down in his soul, he sorta likes it.

Tyler's so... gentle and caring. He's almost the exact opposite of what Josh is. It's not as if Josh is, like,  _rough_ or  _mean_ or anything, but it's more like he never really takes sex that seriously, at least from an emotional standpoint.

So, alright--on a good day, Josh will admit it at least to himself that they're making love. He hates that term with every fiber of his being, but that's what this is. Tyler's a fucking romantic, and he's dragging Josh down with him.

"I don't--I don't know what to do with my hands," Josh admits, quietly. It's the first time he's really even said anything other than giving Tyler verbal consent the, like, ten times the boy asked. He's usually not chatty during sex, but he's awkward and a little nervous, and even Josh, the biggest asshole in the world (or so everyone thinks), the guy who isn't supposed to have emotions or do anything that's considered 'human,' still tends to run his mouth a bit when he's awkward, nervous, or both.

Tyler slows down, and comes to a complete stop. "Uh... I'm trying to think of what I usually do... Oh! Um. Well, shit." Tyler leans back, until he's sitting upright, Josh's legs still around his hips. "I mean... usually I scratch your back up a bit, and I bite your shoulders,  _but_ you also tend to fuck me within an inch of my life, whereas that's not, like, really my main goal right now. I dunno if I've said this, or if I really even need to, but you know you're allowed to touch me, right...? I mean, even when I'm  _not_ being fucked within an inch of my life, I still at least have my hands on the person, or if I'm on my stomach or on all fours or whatever, I do like to hold onto bed sheets and pillows. Do whatever you're comfortable with, I guess."

"Can you just--can you tell me what to do? I don't know what to do right now. Usually this situation is the other way around."

Tyler nods, and adjusts his position to where he's hovering over Josh again. He has himself propped up on his right forearm, and his other hand is barely ghosting down Josh's side until it comes to rest on the man's hip. Tyler adjusts his own hips in the tiniest little thrust that draws an even tinier gasp from Josh. "Josh, look at me, and I don't mean stare at the bit of ceiling to the left of my head. I mean make eye contact with me."

Josh flicks his eyes over until he can look Tyler in the eye. He doesn't usually make eye contact during sex unless he wants to assert his dominance or some other macho bullshit that he likes to tell himself.

"I know you wouldn't ever have the gall to tell  _me_ this, but you know I love you, right?"

Josh nods a little meekly, letting out a quiet, "I know." He knows that Tyler loves him more than anything. There's a part of Josh that wants to say,  _"I love you too,"_ back to Tyler, but the words catch in his throat and he ends up saying, "Kiss me. Please."

It's the simplest thing, but Tyler knows what Josh means. He can tell what Josh means and he's knows that this is probably all the affection he's going to get out of the man, at least for the next month, so he just takes the bait and dips his head down to kiss the man on the lips, firmly, as he begins to start thrusting again.

Josh ends up with his hands on Tyler's face, keeping him within in kissing distance.

\---

Once they're finished, Josh is basically putty in Tyler's hands. Josh himself isn't being affectionate, but he's doing what he does when he wants  _Tyler_  to be affectionate with  _him._

So, Tyler lays there, running his fingers through Josh's hair once the man has tucked himself into his side. He feels somehow flattered when he feels the man gradually relaxing, and when he hears him snoring slightly. Josh doesn't snore very much, but he does have a deviated septum that makes a bit of a whistling sound whenever the man is asleep or breathing through his nose. (Tyler's noticed that Josh's lips are always parted a little bit due to the fact that he breathes through his mouth, and, alright, Tyler gets that he's insecure about his stupid deviated septum, but it's something that he thought was important enough to remember.)

About thirty minutes pass until there's a knocking at the door. Tyler had dozed off, and he jerks awake. He's a light sleeper, whereas Josh isn't, so he barely manages to get out of the bed without disturbing Josh. He's quick about getting into the drawer that's reserved for his underwear on Josh's dresser so he can pull on a fresh pair of boxers.

He slips out of the room and shuts the door behind him as he walks down the hallway, through part of the dining room/kitchen area, until he's by the door. He looks through the peep hole, and groans when he sees that it's Brendon. He's about to just ignore the door, but as soon as he starts walking away, there's three very loud and pointed knocks, so he just gives in and swings the door open.

"What do you want?"

"Is Josh home? I'd prefer to talk to him myself." Brendon gives Tyler a distasteful look that just earns him a roll of the eyes from the boy.

"He's home, but he's asleep."

"Really? He's usually up until at least one."

"Well, he's not today. He doesn't sleep that much so I'd, personally, prefer it if you just left."

Brendon sighs and shifts on his feet. "It's something important. Can you wake him up or something?"

"He's an ass when he gets woken up, and like I said, he doesn't sleep that much, so,  _again,_ I'd prefer it if you left."

"I mean  _important_ as in it can't wait."

Tyler takes a deep breath and mentally recites the serenity prayer to himself before stepping back and telling Brendon to stay put.

"He's  _my_ best friend. I think I can walk through his apartment."

Tyler whirls around and marches up to Brendon. "It's  _his_ apartment, not yours, and he's not the only person who lives here anymore.  _I'm_ not comfortable with you just marching into  _my home_  acting like you own the place, so  _stay put."_

Tyler glares at him, not up at him or down at him since they're about the same height, and once he's at least ninety percent sure Brendon's going to listen to him, he stalks off back towards Josh's bedroom. (Or, well, his bedroom too, technically, considering he sleeps in there most nights.)

Tyler shuts the door behind him, gently, and kneels next to the side of the bed Josh is on. He reaches a hand out to touch his hair, trying to be as gentle as possible about waking him up, because if he  _isn't_ gentle or nice about it, the attitude Josh tends to cop with him is, like, ten times worse, if not more so.

"You better have a good reason as to why you're waking me up right now," Josh grumbles as he bats Tyler's hand away from him.

"Brendon's here and he wants to talk to you about something. I can't get him to leave, so I'm assuming it's important. I mean,  _I_ wanted to let you sleep, but he's a dick."

Josh lets out a long suffering sigh. "Wanna take bets on what he wants?"

"The last time he was here, he was pissed and ranting about whatever to you, so I'm going to guess that this time it's about money. He has a pattern. One week it's because he wants to use you as his emotional punching bag, then the next he's short on a bill or something."

Josh grunts in response to him. "You're probably right. Go ask him what he wants. I'm gonna take a shower." Josh rolls over and sits up with his face in his hands for a few moments before taking a deep breath, and stumbling out of the bed and making his way towards his bathroom.

\---

"I hate being the go between for the two of you, but Josh wants to know why you're here." Tyler's tapping his fingers against the wall, waiting for an answer.

"Like I said--can I just talk to him myself?"

"Not when he asked me to ask  _you_ why you're here."

"I don't want you knowing things about me." Tyler rolls his eyes into the back of his head.

"He's probably going to tell me anyways, so just cut the shit. Quit being a brat."

"I need money, alright?"

\---

Josh has his checkbook and a pen in hand by the time he's stepping into his living room. Tyler's in the bedroom watching TV, muttering something about not having the patience to even look at Brendon.

As Josh is sitting down on his couch, he asks, "How much do you need?"

Josh is expecting to write a check for maybe a few hundred dollars at most, but he's wrong, and he finds that out when Brendon's saying, "Five thousand," in an unsure tone.

He just... blinks. "You expect me to write you a check for  _five grand_ when you don't even talk to me regularly...?"

"I sort of quit my job and spent my savings on a record store."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but did you just say that you  _quit your job,_ and spent your savings on a  _record store?"_

"My boss saw me at Pride, in  _drag,_ and he was giving me shit about it, so I quit. I walked to that one record store I always used to go to when I was a kid, and the guy told me he was selling it to chase some pipe dream down in Miami, so I wrote him a check for ten grand and he went for it. My only problem is that I have eight in my account, and I'm probably going to, like, need some funds to get started with...?"

"Next I know you're going to be asking me for a kidney," Josh grumbles as he's scribbling out the check. Now, as he's handing the check to him, he says, "You can't keep doing weird shit like this."

"Why not? Everyone has to start somewhere," Brendon defends himself.

"Don't worry about paying me back. I pity you. You're going to need the money."

"Gee, Josh, thanks for the vote of confidence."

\---

Patrick pokes around Brendon’s newly acquired record store. “As an accountant, I’m going to tell you right off the bat that this isn’t a good investment.”

“How about your personal opinion?”

“Personally, I think this place is pretty cool, and that you have some real balls.”

“It’s going to take some work and more money to get it fixed up.”

“You’re working on getting a business license, right?”

“Yeah.” Brendon steps around the counter in the store to look at all of the records lying around. “Christ, none of this shit is even sorted. I don’t know how this place managed to keep its doors open.”

“They’ve got fucking Frampton with Bach. This--this is pretty bad. You’ve got a mess on your hands.”

“Think Tyler’s desperate enough for cash that he’d help me sort everything for twenty bucks or something?”

“He could get a hundred just from asking Josh. He’s smart and will milk you for all you got, and twenty ain’t gonna cut it,” Patrick comments nonchalantly.

“He’s such a little fucker,” Brendon’s grumbling and frowning. It’s been a little under a year, and, obviously, he still doesn't like Tyler.

“And you’re a douchebag,” Patrick sing-songs at Brendon.

“You’re a catty fag.”

“So are you.”  _Scoff._

“Fair enough I guess.”

\---

“I only got fifty extra bucks, but I need help sorting everything.”

“Seventy and I want a favor.” Tyler leans back in his side of the booth at the diner, crossing his arms.

“Sixty, and it depends on what you need.”

“Fine. I’m working on putting together an EP, and you can listen to it to make sure it’s good once it’s done, but when it  _is,_ I want you to sell it in your store.”

“What’s your genre?”

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t have one.”

“Tyler--”

“Look, it’s  _good,_ and I’d probably mark it as ‘alternative’ but it’s not  _specific,_ okay? Anyways, on the off chance I get famous, your store is going to explode with business.”

Brendon squints at the boy.

 _“Fine._ You better be right about it being good.” Brendon throws a fifty and a ten onto the table. “Tomorrow around eight, alright?”

“Can I have the address or do you expect me to use my spooky queer powers to find it?”

“Smart ass.” He pulls a pen out and scribbles the address onto a napkin. “I have shit to do today, but, uh, yeah. That’s it. Thanks.”

\---

Josh picks up the Walkman Tyler had thrown at him. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“Turn it on and listen.”

“Why?”

“Josh, just do it. You're just watching Days Of Our Lives reruns anyways. This is way better.” Once he gets a nod, the boy leaves the apartment altogether, since he’s supposed to go help Brendon sort records anyways.

\---

Tyler has a stack of Foreigner albums in his hands when he asks Brendon why he hates him.

“I don't  _hate_ you, I guess, but I don't like you.”

“Is it because I stole Josh away from you?”

“That's part of it. You haven’t exactly been the friendliest person either.”

“Because you’ve been a dick since you met me, dude.”

“You were a dick first.”

“No I wasn’t, Brendon. I just wanted to have sex with one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen to this day, but you crawled up my ass the second you saw me.”

“You think Josh is gorgeous?”  _Eyebrow raise._

“Don’t you?” Tyler counters.

“I mean, I guess.” The man shrugs and looks away as he goes to set a few Christina Aguilera albums in their designated place.

“He’s got a great body and an even better face.”

“His personality ruins it sometimes.” Brendon’s grumbling under his breath and walking to a different part of the store.

Tyler frowns. He follows the man. “How so?”

“He's a dick, Tyler.”

“Well,  _yeah,_ but that's not all he is.”

“What do you even see in him anyways?” Tyler gets cast a distasteful look.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I haven't the  _foggiest.”_

“Alright,  _Grandma_. Also, you totally know what I'm getting at.”

“I don't know, man. It's the typical unrequited crush on your best friend story. It happens. Anyways,” he turns around from a rack that he'd just gotten done organizing; “you're  _young._ You could have any number of more decent guys than Josh, yet you choose him.  _Why_?”

“He's just  _Josh._ I could wax poetic about him all day.”

“He's too old for you.”

 _Shrug._ “Ryan was too old for you.”

“He was only five years older than me. Josh has twelve on you. It's not appropriate.”

“I couldn't give less of a shit.”

“You're too good for him, man.”

“He's too good for  _you._ You treat him like shit, Brendon.” Tyler scoffs at the audacity of this man.

“I do  _not.”_

Tyler sets a few albums down so he can put his hands on his hips. “Really? You only talk to him if you want something, and you use him as an emotional punching bag half the time. You're always putting him down, too, and you criticize everything he does instead of trying to support him and treat him like a human being.”

“He treats  _me_ like shit.”

“He does whatever you ask him to--shit he gave you  _five thousand dollars_ for no good reason other than you asked, and you barely even thanked him. He's been your shoulder to cry on whenever you've had shitty boyfriends or during the whole  _Ryan_ debacle, and the only time I know of that you've been there for him was when  _I_ just about had my head bashed in. Anyways, you were saying?”

Tyler almost laughs at how fast the man breaks eye contact.

“That's what I thought. Why do you think he's nice to me? Maybe if you were nicer to him, then he'd be nicer to you. It's not hard to be a decent person.”

Their conversation cuts off there as the definition of beauty walks in. Brendon seems to lose any dislike for Tyler when he leans over to ask, “Gay or straight?” into his ear as he points to the man who is poking around the store.

“Straight,” he whispers back. “Wranglers, plain button up, and Nikes? Total breeder wear. Though, the cardigan is throwing me off. I'm gonna go hit on him.” When Tyler goes to walk over to the man, Brendon yanks him back by the arm.

“My store, my one night stand. Fuck off, Tyler.”

\---

 _I've spent the past semester waxing poetic about Bach and Tchaikovsky. I need to find something cool._ Large hands are flipping through display of CDs, trying to find something that look interesting. The own of said large hands looks up with blue eyes sort of wide and very curious once he feels someone tapping him on the shoulder, and a courteous voice asking him if he needs help finding anything.

"Uh, yeah, actually. I, uh--I teach music history at an art school, and I figured working in something other than classical music into my rubric might be, uh, a little more interesting for my students." Dallon scratches the back of his neck after saying this.

"What do you like to listen to? That's always a good start, man." The shop owner asks him, smiling just a little bit, looking oh so kind and pretty.  _I'm already screwed. He's so gorgeous._

"Uh... Classical, mostly. For a music history professor, I know fuck-all about music. Though, I do have a soft spot for Queen, Blue Oyster Cult, and Electric Light Orchestra."

"Okay, well--would you mind if I made some recommendations?"

 _"Please._ I need all the help I can get."

The man before him chuckles slightly. "First of all, I'm Brendon."

"Dallon." He sticks a hand out, and Brendon shakes it.

Dallon watches the man, Brendon, and listens to him, almost in awe, as he's going on an in depth rant about all sorts of music. He shows an obvious bias towards classic rock, but also points Dallon towards a few pop albums, and even an obscure country album.

Dallon also finds himself laughing when the teenager he saw in the store hands him a CD with now cover, only saying, "Have to promote myself somehow, man," before  _he's_ laughing at the pissy look on Brendon's face.

"Ignore him. He's a bit of a brat."

"It's totally fine. Like, the more music the better, honestly. It's always a treat when it's free."

"Fair enough. Anyways--"

\---

Josh sits on his couch, his expensive one, imported from Italy, in awe, as he listens to the CD Tyler had thrown together. He feels oddly proud of the young man. The CD itself, in Josh's opinion, is almost  _perfect._ It's amazing. He spent middle school and most of high school in band, and he dabbled a bit in college, so he's easily able to pick apart the songs, and he makes a mental checklist on what Tyler could improve upon, and parts that he thinks needs more polishing, but all in all, it's pretty solid. On top of that, though, Josh  _still_ thinks its phenomenal, especially given the boy is eighteen, and in his opinion, everything on this CD is better than anything he's heard on the radio in a  _very_ long time.

As soon as he hears the lock on the door clicking, he's up and off the couch, heading towards it. As soon as Tyler's in the door, he's grabbing his arm, and leading him towards the kitchen table to get him to sit down. "Dude, what the hell?"

Josh hushes him, and sits across from him. "First thing--you're  _really_ talented. Like, I haven't heard any music  _that_ good in probably forever."

"Uh..." Tyler isn't sure on how he should handle the compliment. "Thank you."

"Second thing--you're hiring me."

"Um, dude... You're expensive. I don't even have a job, and I only have the sixty bucks Brendon gave me, plus the two hundred in my bank account. I can't afford it."

"Pro-bono for now. Three things, though. I get a five percent cut of whatever you make on the CD, which is better than my usual twenty. You need to come up with a title for this, so I can come up with a kick ass cover. The third thing, though--I'm going to run an ad campaign  _so good_ that everyone in the country, or at least in Ohio, is going to want to buy this."

"That's sort of a lot... I dunno if I can accept that." Tyler's frowning, and playing with a strand of his hair, staring at a spot on the table rather than Josh's face.

"So? Take advantage of me. You'd be dumb not to, at least right now. As a general life lesson--use what you've got. If you have a partner who knows what he's doing as far as advertising goes, then take advantage of him, alright? You need to do whatever you can to further along your career at this point."

"That sounds kind of shitty."

"Of course it does. There ain't one successful person on this planet who hasn't played dirty."

"I never said I wouldn't do it. I mean, I've sucked dick for a twenty, and I even blew one of the bouncer at Atlantis just to get in. What makes you think I won't take advantage of people?"

Josh grins. "Atta boy!"

Tyler rolls his eyes, but grins as well.

\---

Tyler gets taken to Atlantis, willingly and by Josh, of course. He sits at the bar, shamelessly sipping at some fruity drink waiting for Josh to reappear. He'd slipped into the crowd, muttering something about his dealer and ecstasy.

He's caught off guard when Brendon's coming up to him, and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, smiling like an idiot.  _He's tweaked. Ugh._ "Hey, man. Where's Josh?"

"Why do you assume that I know?"

"I saw his car, and you're here."

"He's copping ecstasy from his dealer, I think."

Brendon rolls his eyes and mutters, "Fuckin' tweaker," under his breath and he plops down into the bar stool next to Tyler's.

"He's thirty. He can do what he wants."

"Who's he getting it from?"

"That Saporta guy. The, like, half Jewfro, half Spanish guy."

"He's from Uruguay, I think."

"Point is, I've met him a few times and he speaks Spanish. What're you doing here?"

"Meeting someone."

"Lemme guess--tall cutie you saw at the store earlier?"

Brendon nods, and smirks, before pulling a little bottle out of his pocket. He uncaps the lid, flicks the bottle a few times, then sticks it close to his nostril so he can sniff pretty aggressively. He wipes his nose after, before holding the bottle towards Tyler. "Want a bump?"

"Uh... Depends on what it is, I guess."

"Poppers. Basically just amyl nitrate. It makes sex pretty freakin' awesome."

Tyler, being the dumb and experimental eighteen year old he is, just shrugs and takes the bottle from him, repeating the man's actions after doing so. He sneezes afterward, and gives Brendon a dirty look that he gets from him. "I'm not a hardened drug addict like you are, dude. Fuck off."

"I am  _not_ an addict." Brendon rolls his eyes.

Josh reappears soon after that comment from Brendon, a baggy containing a few pills in hand. He's breaking one of them in half once he reaches the bar, and orders a shot of vodka to take it with. He notices the way Tyler's sniffing and rubbing at his nose, so with squinted eyes, he looks at Brendon and asks, "What did you give him?"

The man holds up the little bottle.

Josh rolls his eyes. "Poppers? Really?"

"I asked him, and he said yeah." Brendon shrugs and goes back to minding his own business. (For once.)

Tyler sighs, and pulls Josh down to steal a quick kiss. "Sharing is caring, Josh."

Josh grunts and pecks him on the lips one more time before standing up straight again. He holds the baggie up a bit, and asks Tyler, "You want to try?"

"What is it and what does it do?"

"Ecstasy, and it makes you, like, super horny. It's great."

Tyler holds his hand out, and once half of a pill is dropped into his palm, he pops it, washing it down with a swig of the fruity drink he's still working on. "When does it start working?"

"Probably in about fifteen minutes.

\---

Tyler's pretty much all over Josh once the ecstasy really hits him. Currently, he's trying to convince Josh just to take him back to the apartment, and when Josh questions him, he says, "I don't want to fuck in the bathroom here because it's gross and uncomfortable, and your apartment is a ten minute walk anyways, if that."

Tyler has his arms thrown around Josh's shoulders, mostly to keep his balance, since he's a  _little_ tipsy. (And maybe a little high.) Josh has his hands on the boy's hips, the tips of his fingers barely poking into Tyler's pants. "That's so  _long."_

"Who caaares, Josh. it's more comfortable, we can be as loud as we want, and I'll even do that thing you like."

"Yeah? What thing?" Josh quirks an eyebrow.

"I dunno. You into anything weird?"

"Not really."

"Well, shit. Listen, my ass is yours. I just want to get fucked in my own bed, then be able to pass out afterward with no worries." Tyler leans up a bit to also say, "Added, I'd feel a lot safer, alright?" into his ear.

It's that last comment that convinces Josh. He still acts a little stubborn, though. "You absolutely sure?"

"Mhm. One hundred percent."

"I  _suppose_ we can go back."

Tyler grins and kisses him. "Thank you,  _Daddy."_

And at that, Josh is groaning and nudging Tyler.

\---

_Knock knock knock._

Tyler grabs one of his pillows and hides his head under it, cursing whatever higher power is out there for deciding to let someone knock on his door at whatever time it is, especially when he's  _hungover,_ and  _crashing._

He can tell when Josh officially wakes up, because the man sighs, and groans almost silently as he rolls over, facing away from the sun that's peeking in past the curtains. He nudges Tyler after the person knocks again, causing the boy to only grunt and scoot away, muttering, "It's your apartment."

"You live here."

"You pay the rent."

Josh doesn't respond after that, and the two of them lay there for three minutes before Josh gives up his last sliver of hope, the hope that Tyler would, for once, not be stubborn, and that he'd go answer the fucking door.

He grunts as he sits up, and takes a moment to squeezes his eyes shut, to yawn, and to stretch before he's standing up. He's about to go answer his door before realizing that he's, like,  _naked_ , so he grabs the nearest and cleanest looking pair of pajama bottoms and puts them on before actually leaving the room to answer the door.

As he's walking down the hallway, he tries his best to ignore the aching in his back and his thighs, both of which were caused by the fact that he spent just about all night fucking Tyler into the mattress. He stops in his kitchen for a few moments to pop four ibuprofen before actually answering the door.

He's half expecting Brendon, since that--that would just  _make sense,_ but... Well, that's just not who it is. Josh is expecting his obnoxious and assertive friend, but, instead, he gets his mother, who is standing there, smiling in a way that most people would think is warm and happy, but Josh knows her. (Hell, he grew up with her.)

Her eyes, which are the same shade as his own, are cold and calculative, and they stare up at him, unblinking and unwavering. "Uh... Mom. Hey," comes his oh so smart greeting.  _I have a masters in advertising. You'd think I'd be better at talking to my own_ mother. He steps aside to let her in, and after he closes the door but before he head towards his kitchen, he asks, "What are you doing here?"

"I brought cake, and I also just came by to talk, and to ask how you're doing. We don't exactly talk much. The last time I even saw you was Christmas." She sets the cake down before she's sitting in one of the bar stools.

Josh takes a second to move the cake out of the way, and to see what it is.  _Tiramisu. Fuck. That's my favorite._

"Your father made it, said something about his Japanese heritage."

"Tiramisu is Italian," Josh mutters with a frown on his face as he steps around the bit of counter space that his bar stools are in front of. (Or behind. Depends on where he's standing.)

"You know how he is. I kept my mouth shut."

"Mm. Wise. Uh. Do you—do you want coffee, or...?"

"Coffee."

He just nods meekly as he pulls out whichever instant coffee he thinks she'd like best, and sets to work on brewing it. As he's doing that, she asks how he's been doing. "I'm alright," he answers simply and inconspicuously.

"How's work?"

By now, Josh is just barely finished pouring water into his coffee machine, and now pretty much all he has to do is wait for it to  _do the thing._ "It's there."

"Better than nothing, am I right?" She's trying, and in a way, he can respect that. "Have you met anyone recently?"

"What's with all the questions?" Josh asks as he thinks to set out creamer and sugar.

"I was just wondering," she responds, coolly.

"I—I guess so."

"What's she like?"

"Oh, y'know." Josh makes a vague hand gesture and shrugs noncommittally.

"Geez. You're about as tight lipped as your father."

 _Probably because there's a hungover eighteen year old coming down off ecstasy in my bedroom, waiting for me to get back so we can fool around a bit._ "It's hereditary, I guess."

"Well, I was just wondering, because you, uh..." Her eyebrows rise up ever so slightly, and she points towards her own neck.

"Hickeys?"

"That, and your back." She smirks a little bit, and Josh huffs, because no matter how old he gets, she always finds a way to embarrass him.

By now, his coffee pot is beeping, and he's pouring coffee in a mug and adding the proper amount of creamer and sugar that she tells him to before sliding the mug across the counter.

She starts talking, probably to fill the silence, about the going-ons of her life, and Josh half listens, nodding when he needs to, and only snaps out of his little daze when he notices Tyler walking down the hall.

He can't do anything to get Tyler to go back in the bedroom, at least not without alerting his mother to Tyler's existence, so he just stands there in his hungover and exhausted agony, planning to let things unfold as they were meant to, as Tyler steps into the kitchen with a ferocious yawn.

Josh is frozen to his spot, eyes a little wide, and Tyler only notices someone else is there after he's dumped out whichever day's pills out of his pill container into the palm of his left hand, but just before he's about to open the fridge to grab the carton of orange juice.

Josh decides to just... go with it, at least after looking back and forth between the two of them and opening and closing his mouth a few times over the course of thirty or so seconds. "Uh. Mom, this is Tyler. He's my, uh... My partner. Tyler, this is... my mother."

Tyler holds up a finger and unscrews the lid on the orange juice, and takes his pills before he's walking to stand to where he can easily reach across the counter and offer his hand for Josh's mother to shake. "Nice to meet ya."

She just stares at Tyler's hand in shock for a few seconds before basically spitting, "I—I need to leave," as she's grabbing her keys and purse. (Despite the slight severity of the situation, Josh is glad that she doesn't grab the cake as she rushes out. He likes Tiramisu.)

Tyler just shrugs as he watches Josh follow her out, given he's too tired and too hungover to bring himself to care at the moment.

\---

"Ma, will you slow down and talk to me?" For the first time in probably his entire life, Josh is trying to  _actually_ talk to his mother.

She keeps walking, though, up until she's at the elevator, where she starts rapidly pressing the down button, as if to will it to open up faster.

"Mom."

She sighs, closes her eyes, and barely turns towards him, not even making eye contact, asking, "Who all knows?"

"My friends, plus Tyler, obviously."

"Does your brother...?"

"Told him a little before I moved out. He didn't really care."

"Thank god your father doesn't know." She shakes her head, and Josh hates the feeling he gets—he hates what the feeling a child gets when their parent is disappointed in them. Even at thirty, it's still the most emasculating and humiliating feeling to him. (Aside from a few other things.) "I just hope you know it's a sin."

"What? That I'm gay, or that I didn't tell you?"

\---

"Hey, Josh," Tyler says casually around a mouthful of granola bar as Josh is walking back into the apartment.

"Fuck you," Josh tells him without even making eye contact as he stomps back towards his bedroom.

Tyler scoffs, swallows, and sets the granola bar down before following him.  _"Excuse_ me? What did I do?"

Josh whirls around once they're both in the room. "If you would've just stayed in the fucking bedroom, she wouldn't have found out!"

"Okay, you're, what,  _thirty?_ You're  _thirty._ It's not my fault you've been too piss in your pants afraid to tell your mom that you're a fag!"

The look he gets out of Josh is sinister, and if it could kill, Tyler would've been stillborn.

\---

Tyler's dressed and a few blocks away at the diner in almost record time, eating hangover food. He's, y'know, hungover, and crashing, and, on top of that, he just in general feels kind of shitty, so Josh being pissed at him for a stupid reason definitely isn't helping his mood. He just broods, alone, in his corner booth while he eats, and he's giving Josh a nasty glare when the man walks in, looking guilty as fuck.

When Josh tries sitting at the booth, Tyler has his legs up and in the seat across from him, saying, "Sit somewhere else," before Josh can even do anything about it.

Of course, Josh doesn't listen to him. He just grabs Tyler's feet and moves his legs out of the seat before he's sliding into it. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm hungover and grumpy."

"I'm hungover too, but you don't see me blaming you because my mother cut me off after catching us walking back to your apartment, now do you?"

Josh sighs and crosses his fingers together in front of him on the table. "I don't exactly have experience with being out to my parents, y'know." He looks kind of like a kicked puppy, and Tyler's mentally sighing.  _I need to quit forgiving him so easily._ "I--I know I'm an adult and all, but I still try impressing my parents, so I think you could imagine what it felt like hearing my mother, who, by the way, has, up until this point, been rather kind to me, tell me that I'm going to go to hell after finding out I'm gay and that I'm in a relationship with an eighteen year old."

Tyler doesn't say anything to him as he stuffs a few fries in his mouth, and continues not to say anything for a few more minutes, since he's trying to think of something to say that isn't a 'fuck you.' "Don't blame me for that.  _You're_ the one who didn't tell her, and you're the one who didn't bother coming and telling me that she was even there in the first place."

"I'm sorry, alright?"  _I think that's the first time he's apologized to me for being an asshole. Huh._

This is when Tyler  _actually_ forgives him. "You mean that, right?"

Josh nods.

"Alright. Fine. I forgive you."

\---

"Deb--"

"Josh, he's your kid too, and Jen's in Detroit visiting her family."

"I still can't believe you have a  _kid,_ and you never told me," Tyler mutters while looking down at the infant in his arms, and while occasionally looking up to look between his disgruntled partner and his assistant.

"Once upon a time," Josh starts as he steps over to take the one and a half year old from Tyler, much to the boy's dislike, "our favorite lesbians wanted a kid, so I agreed to be their sperm donor. Unfortunately."

Debby scoffs. "Watch it, Dun. I know you love him every bit as much as Jen or I do."

Tyler's still in a slight state of shock, shaking his head. "I still can't believe you never told me." He

"It didn't come up, and it's not like we sit down and have conversations all the time." Josh shrugs slightly, and despite his tone, he still kisses Tyler on the forehead when the boy is standing in front of him to offer one of his fingers to Nathan, or Nate, to grab.

"It's not my fault I do all the talking," he mumbles.

"Both of you—shush. Josh, you know when his nap time his, and bed time, and all of the emergency numbers for when I'm gone, right?"

Josh sighs. "You left me a list, you emailed it to me, and you even sent me texts and voice mails. I  _know."_

\---

Josh is more than happy to let Tyler fawn over Nate while he eats a salad and listens to Brendon yammer on about the infamous  _Dallon Weekes_ later that evening in the diner, since it means he has at least a little less responsibility on his plate.

"He's so  _dreamy,_ and so  _hot."_ Brendon's pretty much drooling all over the damn table.

"We've established this, Brendon," Josh drawls, boredly, as he turns the page in that months copy of  _Out,_ along with taking another bite of his salad.

"There's  _one_ problem, though." And now Brendon sounds hesitant.

Josh looks up, with his mouth full, and eyebrows raised a bit. Tyler looks up from Nate, who has a death grip on the eighteen year old's fingers. "What's the hangup?" Tyler asks.

"He's HIV positive." Brendon winces a bit in anticipation of Josh and Tyler's response.

Josh swallows the bite of his salad, and Tyler's jaw drops a bit. "Don't get involved with him," is what Josh says almost immediately.

"I really like him, though, and we're both more than informed about safe sex."

"What if one of you slips up, though?" Tyler sounds a little worried now. He peels one of his fingers from Nathan's grasp. "HIV isn't something you should be fucking around with."

At that moment, Patrick pretty much materializes out of nowhere, and plops down in the booth next to Brendon. "What's this about HIV? One of you finally get it?"

Josh shakes his head and folds the corner of the page he's on in the magazine before closing it and sitting up a little straighter. "No. That guy Brendon's been seeing has it, though."

Patrick starts going off on a bit of a tangent, which is odd and only a little bit out of character for him, but he gets cut off by Tyler, who just says, "What? Is he gonna bend over one day to get the newspaper and,  _oh no!_ There goes Dallon's load, flying right up his ass!"

Josh cackles a bit, and Brendon rolls his eyes. Patrick gives Tyler a dirty look. "This isn't a joke, Tyler."

"Did I say that? Brendon's an adult; he can make his own choices. If he wants to be with Dallon, then so be it, and,  _anyways,_ from what I've heard, you weren't exactly calm and kosher when you thought you might've gotten it."

Josh snorts at the memory, and slyly says, "Remember that conversion therapy group?"

Patrick kicks him under the table. Not hard, but enough to get his point across. "Fuck off. This isn't about me." Patrick turns towards Brendon fully now. "You need to be  _sure_ if you want to be with him."

Brendon frowns. "Of course I'm sure. He's a really sweet guy, and he way nicer to me than Ryan ever was. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I've already slept with him, and I get checked for STDs every six months." Brendon sighs and stirs his drink with his straw. "My mom isn't too thrilled about his HIV status, though. I mean, she'll come around, but she about ripped my head off when I told her."

"Doesn't your uncle...?" Josh starts around a mouthful of his salad, but trails off, mostly since he knows the answer, and also since Brendon most likely already knows what he's getting at. (Josh knows the man like the back of his hand.)

"Yes! That's what gets me. She goes on and on about he deserves to be in a relationship, and how his HIV status shouldn't affect who he does and doesn't date, yet the second one of my partners has it, she pitches a fit!"

"At least she cares about you, I guess."

\---

Josh is going back and forth between watching reruns of some HBO drama on his TV, and watching Nathan, who is asleep on his chest, later that evening. He's close to falling asleep himself when his doorbell rings. Nathan fusses a little bit as Josh is getting up, but the man just hushes him and carries him on his hip as he answers the door.

Josh has to wonder what the fuck it is with his parents and just showing up on his doorstep after almost a year of no contact. Josh is startled, to say the least, when he sees his dad standing there with some weird, slightly holier than thou look on his face. "Uh..." Is the smart response that spills from Josh's mouth. "Dad. Hey."

The man raises his eyebrows at Nathan, and when Josh lets him in, after he's made his routine comment about how  _nice_ the apartment is, he asks about Nathan.

"You remember Debby? That girl I was dating in high school? He's her kid."

"And she leaves him with you?"

Josh mentally sighs. He hates how this man is always  _critical_ of him, no matter what he does. "Sometimes. She's on a business trip, and I was the only person who was available to babysit on short notice. Not like I have anything going on anyways." He shrugs. Once either of them have taken a seat in Josh's living room, he's asking, "Why are you here?"

"Well,"  _he_ starts as he's adjusting his position in one of Josh's stupid armchairs, "your mother insisted I drop by and tell you myself."

"Tell me what? That you're short on your house payment again and that I need to cover it?"  _It's my apartment, and I have an infant in my arms. He wouldn't dare to even touch me right now._

"I'm not here for your  _money,"_ Suddenly, he's bitter and his tone has turned sour, hissing that out. "I have cancer."

 _Oh._ "Oh. What kind?"

"Lung cancer."  _Nice._

"Is that it?"

"I'm dying." Even as he's admitting that he's dying, he doesn't dare to look weak, and Josh's fists are itching with an urge to punch him for whatever reason.

\---

Tyler comes stumbling back into the apartment around two, fucked out and ready to fall into bed next to Josh. He's surprised to see that his partner is still up, sitting at his dining table with a glass of scotch in front of him, and the actual bottle not too far off. He has his head in his hands and Tyler gently pats him on the shoulder, asking, "What's up?"

"My dad came by," he mumbles back without even looking up.

Tyler winces and takes a seat across from him. "Did he do anything?"

Josh shakes his head and moves one of his hands so he can knock back the rest of what's in his glass. "He has stage four lung cancer and probably won't make it through the end of the year."

Tyler makes a face. "I'm so sorry."

Josh shakes his head. "Shit happens. I don't even know why it's bothering me."

"Abusive or not, he's still your dad." Tyler takes one of Josh's hands, and after kissing his knuckles, he holds it. "You know you're allowed to come to me if you need to talk, right?"

"I know. Thank you." Josh squeezes the boy's hand a little bit.

Tyler nods and offers him a gentle smile. "No problem. Let's go to bed. It's late, you're drunk, I'm a little tweaked and drunk myself, and Nathan's already asleep."

Josh holds onto him that night, as if he were going to disappear if he didn't. Tyler just rubs his back and runs his fingers through Josh's hair until the man is snoring softly into his shoulder.

\---

Josh shows up at his parents house a week or two after his father broke his deadly news to him. His mother's at work, he knows that much, and that's honestly the only reason he showed up at this time specifically, other than the fact Pete chewed him a new asshole over the fact that he  _still_ hasn't come out to his father.

Josh just walks in, like he always has whenever he's had to be here. He knows his dad is home—he saw his car in the driveway, and he sees the man sitting in the floor in his living room, it hits him that he's, like,  _dying._ He looks frail, more frail than a sixty two year old  _should_ be looking, and his hands shake as he's going through a box of magazines.

Once the man notices his son, he greets him with an uncharacteristic smile, and Josh doesn't respond with anything more than, "We need to talk."

The man looks shocked. "I think that's... the first time you've ever said that to me."

"Probably because it is," Josh mutters. He sits down on one of the couches, and picks at a fingernail that's already been bitten down.

The man makes a noise of acknowledgment, and when he stumbles upon a stack of Playboys, he shows them to Josh with a wink. "Been awhile since I've seen one of these. You want 'em?"

Josh makes a face, one that makes it clear that he's disgusted. "No. I'm gay."

Aaand his dad freezes. "Pardon?"

"I'm gay, and I've been seeing someone for the past year or so."

Josh's father stands up, and comes to stand in front of him. Josh himself stands up, a little glad that he's a good six inches taller than his father, meaning he can look down at him with a sinister look on his face. "I didn't raise you to be a  _faggot."_ The man looks... enraged, and the part of Josh that's still a kid cowers, but the rest of him bristles like a cat, ready to fight.

"Apparently you did," he begins, slowly, deliberately, and evenly, "because we're here now, Father."

"You know, you've got one  _hell_ of a nerve to tell a  _dying man_ that his son is a  _fairy._ You should be the one dying.  _Not_ me."

Josh takes about ten seconds to breathe before he's reeling back to deck his father square in the jaw. He even takes the time to kick the man in the shin once he falls to the floor. "But I'm  _not,_ you selfish old  _prick. You are."_

\---

Tyler and Josh get into a fight. It's over Josh not being overly affectionate, and distancing himself from Tyler and everyone else he knows after his little altercation with his father. (He didn't tell Tyler about it.) It was a dumb fight, really, but it was enough for Tyler to cram his clothes into a gym bag, and to move into Ashley's apartment for a month.

Two weeks before Josh swallows his pride and apologizes for some of the shit he'd said to Tyler, he's sitting at a table near the back of the room in Vista, wallowing in self pity while he sips at a beer. Brendon's there, with Dallon, and Josh is trying his best to make conversation with his best friend's boyfriend. Eventually, Dallon gets up to use the bathroom, and Brendon starts in on Josh. "What's wrong with you? You're  _never_ this quiet."

"It's nothing," Josh lies with a sigh, despite he fact that he knows Brendon's well aware of how much of a lie it was.

"Like hell it is. It's about Tyler, ain't it?"

Josh shrugs nonchalantly and takes a swig of his beer.

"You need to make up with him. He's been staying with his friend, Ashley, and he's been  _sulking._ For one thing, that Ashley kid has a shitty apartment, and he's so annoying when he sulks." Brendon doesn't really sound frustrated, or angry, for once, so Josh figures he's being, like, extra serious.

"I don't have anything to apologize for."

Brendon rolls his eyes. "Cut the shit. You and I both know you said some fucked up things to him."

Josh doesn't argue with that. "What would I even tell him?"

"You love him, don't you?" Brendon asks that as if he's daring Josh to disagree with him.

Josh shrugs and stares at his beer, expression dropping. He loves Tyler, he can admit that to himself, at least, but he'd never say it out loud.

"You should tell him."

"I'm not going to lie to him like that."

 _"Lie?_ You lie to him when you  _don't_ tell him you love him. Somehow, that kid's worked his way past your stupid shell, and into your heart, because despite the fact you act like you don't have a heart,  _you do._ I know you better than you think. Don't tell me you don't love him. You are  _moping,_ and I  _know_ you miss him more than he's missing you."

 _Again,_ Josh doesn't argue, because he's right.

\---

Two weeks after Josh's little talking-to from Brendon, he gets woken up around four in the morning by a phone call from his brother, informing him that his father had passed away, which means that he calls in sick to work, and at almost seven on the dot, which is an hour before Tyler's first class, he's knocking on Ashley's apartment door.

Ashley answers, and half of her hair is up in curlers, the rest hanging free, and flowing beautifully. "You've got a lot of fucking nerve, and you have ten seconds to explain yourself before I slam this door in your face." She holds up her fingers and starts putting one down with each passing second.

"I want to speak to Tyler," is his simple explanation.

Ashley squints at him, expression still venomous before inviting him in, and telling him to stay put by the door.

Josh listens, curling and uncurling his fists in his wool coat the entire time he's waiting for Tyler to rear his head. When the boy does, he sort of feels a little breathless, but the feeling goes away because Tyler's face turns sour, and, alright, Josh knows he had that reaction coming.

Ashley has enough sense to go into a different room as Tyler's walking up to Josh. Tyler looks up at him, face pretty much devoid of motion, and asks, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry." Josh's voice is barely audible and he's avoiding eye contact.

"Try harder. Look me in the eye and actually elaborate. I can't do shit with just an 'I'm sorry.'"

Josh sighs, and it takes him a few minutes, but eventually he works up the nerve to, y'know, look Tyler in the eye, and to apologize properly. "I'm sorry about everything I said to you, and how I acted and treated you. I miss you, and I would like it if you'd move back in." Josh breaks eye contact as soon as he's finished and ops to stare at one of the tiles in Ashley's kitchen. (Her apartment is tiny. Her kitchen is right next to the door pretty much.)

Josh is expecting Tyler to say something rude or unforgiving back to him, but instead, the boy surprises him by saying, "I'm sorry about calling you a heartless piece of shit and accusing you of not caring about me. I didn't mean it, but, like... You were being an asshole and I was upset."

"I had it coming. Can I..." Josh sighs and he hates that he feels his cheeks heating up. "Can I have a hug...?" He's not necessarily embarrassed, but there's a lot going on for him right now, and he's overwhelmed.

Tyler kind of just... shrugs, and holds his arms open. Josh takes the bait. Tyler's really good at hugging, Josh realizes. Tyler hangs on tight, and even rubs his back a little bit. Tyler asks, "Did something happen?" in a tender tone when he feels tears on his shirt.

"My dad died last night."

Tyler hugs him a little tighter. "I'm sorry." It's simple and it's just two words, but Tyler means them.

\---

The day of Josh’s father’s funeral is kind of awkward. Josh stands between his mother and Tyler, with his brother on the other side of Tyler. Tyler wasn’t supposed to tag along, but Josh was totally bashful when he asked him to, for moral support. Tyler had agreed, obviously.

The pastor delivers some bullshit eulogy that Josh has heard a few times before, and then the wake happens. Tyler avoids making a comment about how wakes are usually held beforefunerals, mostly since he isn’t really welcome in the Dun Household. Josh’s mother gives him dirty looks the whole time, whereas Josh’s brother doesn’t really pay any attention to him.

Josh drops Tyler off at the apartment, and disappears for a while to go have a few drinks at one of the bars. When he gets home, Tyler’s so kindly in the middle of cooking dinner for him, with the excuse of, “You look like you could use a warm meal rather than a shitty hamburger from the diner, or shitty take out from that one Thai restaurant.”

Josh steps around the counter, and tugs Tyler close to kiss him. Tyler drops a comment about tasting scotch on him, and Josh shrugs, saying that he shouldn’t be surprised. Tyler allows Josh to hug him, and only detaches himself, blushing, when Josh mutters out the quietest, “I’m really lucky to have you.”

“You’re drunk.” Tyler says, quietly.

“I still mean it.” Josh stumbles a tiny bit as he goes to lean against the counter to watch Tyler cook. “Sorry I drink so much.”

“Not like I can do anything to stop you. It’s understandable anyways, I guess. Your dad died, and you’re stressed, so it’s not really surprising.”

Josh doesn't respond to that, but rather asks, “What’re you cooking?”

“One of my dad's recipes. Nothing too fancy." Tyler shrugs.

\---

Josh wakes up before Tyler one morning, and spends a good ten or twenty minutes admiring his face before he's hauling himself up to shower.

 _Has he always been_ this  _beautiful? What the hell does he see in me?_

Josh stares at the freckles on Tyler's face, finding that he  _really_ likes how they subtly contrast with his already tanned face. He likes the way Tyler's hair, which is kind of getting long and which is always in a state of really needing to be cut, falls in his face and sort of fans out across the pillows. He admires he way Tyler looks so peaceful while he sleeps, even with his face smushed into the pillow, and none of this is even mentioning Tyler's eyelashes, which are resting oh so daintily and prettily on his cheeks.

 _Maybe... I do love him. Fuck. I don't want to be in love with him._ Why  _does it have to be him? This is scary._

\---

 **Jenna:** WHERE ARE YOU

 **Tyler:** eating hangover food @ the diner

 **Jenna:** OK DONT MOVE IM OMW

\---

Tyler sighs softly and shakes his head at his phone before putting it back into his jacket pocket. He yawns, and rubs one of his eyes. He's about halfway through his breakfast when Jenna shows up, looking excited. Tyler stares at his lawyer, waiting for her to start talking as she sits down. "Okay, listen—once upon a time, I was an artist, and I got invited to an art gallery for an exhibit next week, on your birthday,  _so,_ do you want to go?"

"Art... isn't really my thing, Jen. I'm a musician, and, I mean, Josh kind of said birthdays aren't really worth celebrating, and if I'm honest, I kind of agree with him."

Jenna rolls her eyes. "Fuck Josh. He's full of shit. The artist is cute, by the way."

"Why didn't you just tell me that? I'll totally go. What does the guy look like?"

"Well..." Jenna pulls a page from a magazine out of her pocket, and slides it towards Tyler, intending for him to look at the photo on it. "His name is Min Diaz and he's gay. Basically, you'll get to look at some great art, and potentially fuck a hot guy."

\---

Next to Josh, Min Diaz is possibly one of the hottest guys Tyler's ever seen. He's twenty three, as Tyler has learned, and he's dressed pretty plainly, wearing an eggplant colored turtleneck, and a pair of black jeans. Tyler steps up to him, putting on his charm, and greets him with a simple, "Hey."

The artist's eyebrows raise just a bit. "Hello," is what he says back.

Tyler introduces himself. "I'm Tyler." He also sticks his hand out, and smiles politely when Min shakes it. "You're, uh, really talented. It's not often you meet someone with talent like this."

Min narrows his eyes, and doesn't reply right away. "Which piece is your favorite?" It's an innocent question, and Tyler answers honestly.

He points to a painting of a crow covered in blood. "That one, the crow. It's pretty sick."

"Well... You can have it. Consider it... a token of my esteem."

Tyler pretty much gapes. "Are you – are you  _sure?_ It's a little too good for me, of all people, to take home."

"Nonsense." Min waves his hand dismissively. "That only took me a few hours to make. You can have it, free of charge."

"Oh." Tyler smiles a little bit, and  _then_ he starts in on him. "What are you doing after the show?"

Min calls him out on his shit immediately. "Are you hitting on me?"

"Of course. You're...  _hot."_ Tyler shrugs playfully. "You're hot and I'm kind of a whore."

Min chuckles and smirks. "I was going to go back to my little studio apartment with a bottle of moscato and celebrate the successful show. I wouldn't mind a little company, though."

"Yeah? How about it, then?" Tyler's little smile turns almost sinful as steps a little closer, leaning in to lowly say, "How would you feel about going home with a cute guy, willing to let you fuck him senseless?"

Min snorts, and starts cackling. "I don't usually fuck on the first date, but it's tempting, I'll admit."

"Then why not? I promise you I'm great in bed."

The look Tyler gets is indecipherable. "Stick around, and we'll see."

\---

"Nice painting. Where'd you get it?" Josh walks around the counter in his kitchen with a sandwich and a glass of wine in hand.

"Fucked an artist. This was a... souvenir." Tyler shrugs, and sets the painting down on the dining table, away from where he or Josh usually eat, before following Josh to the living room.

Josh smirks once Tyler makes eye contact with him. "How was he?"

Tyler tilts his head to the side and pulls his shirt collar down, revealing fresh hickeys. "Pretty good. My ass is going to be sore for a few days for sure. Honestly, next to you, it was probably the best fuck I've ever had."

"Good to know I'm still your number one."

Tyler sighs, mockingly, and plops down in Josh's lap, kissing him on the lips as he does so. "You'll always be my number one, Joshua, even if we don't work out in the end."

Josh's face goes from slightly amused to hard and strict in a matter of a second. "Don't say that."

Tyler apologizes with a shrug, kisses Josh again, and... the conversation moves on.

\---

Tyler gets some tragic news the week after his birthday. He’s in one of the administrative offices, talking to the person in charge of financial aid and tuition, when he’s told that his tuition hasn’t been paid for in two months. “Wait, seriously? Two months?”

“Sadly, yes. I’d offer to let you apply for financial aid, but…” She shows him a sheet of paper, and, basically, his mother makes too much money for him to apply for financial aid.

“Fuck. Can I have an extension or something while I work something out?”

"I’ll see what I can do. You better be quick, though.”

\---

Tyler steps into his mother’s office at the hospital she works at, and makes himself at home. “What’s going on, Mom?”

She doesn’t look up from her paperwork as she tells him that she has no idea what he’s talking about.

“My tuition. You quit paying for it.  _Why?"_

“I’ll pay for it if you’ll give up your lifestyle.”

“I’m happy and I’m in a relationship with someone whom I love dearly, and I almost died just for coming out of the closet, so there’s no fucking way in hell that I’m going back in just to appease you.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing I can do for you,” She says casually as she gets up to put a few papers into a filing cabinet.

“Why are you such a fucking  _cunt?”_ Tyler asks, incredulously, before storming out of her office to take himself home.

\---

“Tyler, will you  _calm down?”_ Josh, himself, is trying to finish some paperwork that he didn’t get done when he was at his own job that day, and Tyler pacing, griping about his mother not paying for his tuition, wasn’t helping his concentration. “I’ll pay for your tuition myself.”

Tyler’s head snaps towards him. “No. You’re not doing that. You already pay for a bunch of my other shit. You’re not paying for my college.”

“Do you know how much I made last year? I could pay your tuition for the next forty years if I wanted. Let me take care of it. You need to get an education just in case the music thing tanks.”

“There’s nothing in this world that would make me give up music. Don’t even joke about that tanking. Anyways, Brendon’s fucking store has been  _booming_ with business because of me. I don’t think I’m tanking quite yet.”

Josh sighs and goes back to scribbling down his signature. “How would you pay for your tuition if I didn’t?”

“Start slutting around more, maybe start stripping; who knows.”

“You could get a job,” Josh suggests.

Tyler makes a face. “Where would I even work? I don’t have a car, and the diner isn’t hiring right now.”

“You’re like me; you adapt quickly. You’d figure something out.”

Tyler grumbles, and nibbles at his thumbnail as he continues pacing. Josh slams his pen down on the table. “Will you either leave for sit the fuck down?! I’m trying to work.”

Tyler sighs, and walks over to where he’s sitting at the desk in his living room. He leans down a little bit, hands placed on Josh’s shoulders, and kisses his cheek. “I am sorry about being anxious.”

Josh sighs now. “Don’t apologize; you’re just really distracting, and if I don’t get this done tonight, my boss is going to have my head.”

\---

“Josh?” The thirty year old looks up from a few sketches the art department had given him for a campaign to look his assistant in the eye.

“What is it, Deb?”

“I want to have a chat with you.” She steps into the office, and closes the door behind her, locking it. She sits in one of the chairs in front of Josh’s desk, crosses her legs, then locks her fingers together when she asks, “Why didn’t you celebrate Tyler’s birthday?”

“I’m not fond of celebrating sentimental rituals when I could be celebrating accomplishments,” He answers, bluntly, before looking back down.

“Look at me, Josh. You can work on that later. He told Jen that he agreed with you, but I saw how disappointed he looked. You could’ve at least gotten him a gift or something.”

“I buy him shit all the time, Deborah.” He rolls his eyes. “If he wanted to celebrate, he would’ve told me.”

“Josh, you’re his boyfriend. You should’ve celebrated it regardless of whether or not he told you to.” She sighs, and furrows her brows. “We all know he wouldn’t dare cross you.”

“Will you butt out of my love life? Also, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Then what is he to you?” She crosses her arms now, and gives him a pointed look.

“We’re partners, alright? That’s what we agreed to. We aren’t monogamous, and he’s free to come and go when he pleases. If he isn’t happy, then he’ll leave. He’s already broken up with me, or whatever you’d like to call it, a few times before.”

“Because you’ve been a dick to him, and he has at least a little self respect.”

Josh sighs. “What do you want me to do? Buy him a bouquet of roses? He’s not my fucking wife.”

“Why not? He’d appreciate it, and we both know it. He loves you, Josh. He really does.”

“Yet he isn’t in love with me.” Tyler’s been upfront about this, multiple times, and although Josh is a little miffed that his… feelings for Tyler are mostly unrequited, he respects it.

“Oh, that’s a load of  _crap._ He worships the ground you walk on, and you need to get your shit together before he leaves you for good.”

\---

Tyler ends up letting Josh pay for his tuition, and in the beginning of the year, the nineteen year old stumbles upon a certain painter in an empty classroom. Tyler is almost silent when he steps into the room, watching the careful strokes he paints across the canvas with a brush. “That’s pretty dope, Min.”

He jumps, and just about flicks a bit of black paint at Tyler. “Fuck, you’re like my cat. Always silent and sneaky.”

Tyler smirks. “I didn’t know you went to school here.”

“Yeah. You’re in the music department, whereas I’m over here in the starving artists’ section. It happens.”

“Are you starving?” Tyler chuckles a little bit as he steps further into the room, and sets his bag down to watch Min paint.

He huffs. “Little bit. Art isn’t overly lucrative if you’re not famous or if you don’t have the right connections. Though, perhaps now that you’re here, I won’t have to starve.”

Tyler blushes a bit and hides a grin by conveniently wiping at his nose. “I was, uh, just cutting through here, and I saw your hair, so I decided I’d, uh, come see what was up, I guess.”

“Sweet,” Min comments, quietly, as he gets back to work. “You want the rest of my tea?” He asks, ever so kindly, and Tyler blushes once again.

“Nah, I’m good. Oh, uh, by the way--I know it’s been a few months, but I wanted to say thanks for the painting. It looks pretty good up on my wall.” _Josh’s wall._

Min turns to look at Tyler again. “On your wall? Damn, I didn’t think you actually liked it.”

“Of course I do. It’s really cool. You’re pretty frickin’ talented.”

Min smirks, and steps up to Tyler, openly checking him out. “I know I am. So, did you… have a good birthday at all? Never got the chance to ask.”

Tyler shrugs, and the disappointment shows on his face when he says, “It was alright. Didn’t really do a whole lot. My, uh, boyfriend doesn’t really believe in, and I quote, ‘celebrating sentimental rituals, when we could be celebrating accomplishments.’ A load of shit, if you ask me, but that’s what he thinks, so I won’t argue.”

Min’s eyebrows draw together. “That sucks.”

“I wasn’t really in the mood for a party or anything anyways. I’m not too bothered.”

“Oh, no, I meant that it sucks that you have a boyfriend.”

Tyler scoffs, and fails to hold back the slightest of giggles.  _“Oh.”_

Min steps even closer, and adjusts the lapel on the sports coat Tyler is wearing. “If I was your boyfriend, I would throw you the part of a lifetime.”

“Oh really? What would you do?”

“Well, I’d take you out to breakfast, then I would hand you a painting, wrapped in the least tackiest wrapping paper I could find, then in the evening, I’d bust out the two hundred dollar bottle of wine that I keep hidden for special occasions, plus a bouquet of flowers and the nicest meal I could afford, since I’d probably blow all my money on the breakfast. Then, after all that, I would make love to you until we couldn’t stay awake any longer.”

Tyler looks away from his face, cheeks red, blushing something fierce. “You’d do all that for  _me?”_

“Of course, but, alas, I’m not your boyfriend.”

Tyler slips away after that, saying something about needing to get to class. On his way to his music history class, which Brendon’s fucking boyfriend teaches, he has to focus on regulating his heartbeat, because, god, he’s so flattered.

\---

 _I shouldn't be doing this. I should_ not  _be doing this. I really shouldn't be doi-_ "Tyler! Hey! What're you doing here?" Tyler's eyes widen just slightly as a certain purple haired artist comes trotting up to him, a pretty smile plastered across his pretty face. It's been a few weeks since the art room incident, and Tyler has finally caved into the guilty part of himself that wanted to ask Min to go on a date with him.

 _I could just ask Josh to go on a date with m--oh, who am I kidding? He'd just take me to a bar, we'd get fucked up, then go back to his apartment to fuck, and then I'd be hungover and miserable the next day._ "Uh. I've actually been pacing for the better part of an hour now, but, uh..." Tyler blushes and scratches the back of his neck before he musters up the nerve to continue. "I sort of wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date with me...?"

Min's eyebrows shoot up as he steps a little closer to rest an arm on Tyler's shoulder, head cocked ever so slightly, smile dropping into a smirk. "A date? Did you break up with that boyfriend of yours?"

"Uh. Yeah."  _Lies!_ "I just--yeah. I haven't really been on a proper date before, and I... figured you'd be a good first date."  _Another lie. I've been on one date with Josh, and it was lovely._

"Well, in that case, I'd be delighted." Min grins again, and kisses Tyler slowly and sweetly, with no underlying intentions behind it. "Do you still have the same phone number?"

"Yes. I do."

"Awesome. I have class, so, uh, I'll text you or call you or something and we can hash this out, alright?"

Tyler nods, they say goodbye to each other, and, alright, Tyler kind of isn't feeling as guilty as he should be about this. He  _really_ isn't.

\---

"Ashley, I don't know what to do." Two weeks have gone by, and Tyler has sort of let himself sleep with Min once again, which is a huge no-no when it comes to his relationship with  _Josh._ (By sort of, he means he definitely slept with the artist again.)

Ashley mutes the volume on the TV in her living room, and sighs a little bit. "What do you want me to tell you? That I think it's super fucking shitty that you  _cheated_ on your boyfriend?"

"If you want--but--I just... how do I tell him? I need to tell him, Ash. Part of the agreement was full disclosure, and not sleeping with someone more than once."

"You've been with Josh for awhile now, Tyler, and from what you tell me, I think he'd really appreciate it if you were upfront with him and didn't hide it. It doesn't sound like he hides much to you, so you owe him that much. I mean, Min is totally an asshole and I called it as soon as you said something about him, but you still fucked up."

\---

Tyler takes another week to actually say something to Josh. He  _needs_ to, he knows that, so he sits on the edge of the bed, shaking just a little bit from how  _scared_ he is of Josh's reaction, quietly repeating, "I fucked up," to himself every few minutes, keeping his fists balled up in his hair.

Josh is lying on his side, trying to get Tyler to talk, but his patience is started to wear thin. "Tyler, whatever it was, it can  _not_ be bad enough to keep me up until three." He's dead tired, Tyler can tell that just from his voice, and he  _knows_ the man's been overwhelmed at work, and, yeah, Tyler feels really fucking terrible.

"I let that artist take me on a date, no, actually,  _I_ asked him on a date, and we ended up fucking," He finally just  _admits_ this, and, god, he feels so much worse when Josh's hand, a large, warm, and comforting presence on Tyler's shoulder blade, withdraws. "Please don't be mad."

Josh doesn't reply right away. He lets his head tilt back a bit, and his eyes are closed. He sighs, and the next few minutes are agony for Tyler, up until Josh speaks. "We agreed to tell each other if we fucked up, and you told me. Can I just ask  _why_ you did that?" Josh's tone isn't conveying much emotion, if any at all, but Tyler can tell that he's hurt.

"I just... I liked romance and affection. I like being wined and dined. Stuff like that... you don't do that shit, man. You've only taken me on  _one_ date, and it was in your fucking living room, and,  _no,_ going to a club, getting fucked up, and fucking doesn't count as a date. I mean a full on dinner and wine and kissing me on the doorstep  _date."_

"I'm not going to respond to that, in the interest of not promising something I can't provide you with. Do you  _like_ the artist?"

"No," Tyler mumbles, shoulders slumping. "Not anymore. He has a fiance, apparently, who walked in on us going at it. I mean... I kind of think he would've been a downgrade anyways."

"Good," Just mutters. "Now lay down, and go to sleep. I have a long day tomorrow, so I'd like to at least get a few hours in."

Tyler sighs, and eventually crawls under the blankets. He doesn't scoot towards Josh like he wants to, at least not immediately, until the man tugs him to where Tyler's back is pressed against Josh's chest, and until Josh is eventually snoring slightly into Tyler's shoulder. Tyler sleeps easily.

\---

A few months go by, mostly uneventfully, and Tyler’s just barely getting used to the lack of turbulence in his life when he’s woken up by Josh getting out of the bed around three one night. Josh usually sleeps like a rock, and  _rarely_ wakes up during the night, so Tyler rolls over and groggily asks him where he’s going.

He answers quietly, as if he were afraid of waking up some unknown third party. “Dallon’s in the hospital, and Brendon needs a shoulder.”

Tyler sits up and ignores Josh when the man tells him to go back to sleep. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He caught a cold, and apparently his meds quit working,” Josh explains with a sigh. “You coming with me or going back to bed?”

“Coming with. Dallon’s my friend.”

Josh nods and tosses one of his shirts and a pair of Tyler’s pants at him. “I’m gonna go make some coffee before we leave.”  
  
“Make me some,” Tyler mumbles as he rubs his eye.

\---

It’s especially cold that night when Josh drives all the fucking way across Columbus to offer his shoulder for Brendon to cry on. Tyler dozes off while he drives, looking as gorgeous as ever under the lights of passing street lamps, especially with Josh’s jacket covering his slender form, and the t-shirt that goes down to about the middle of his thighs.

Josh  _almost_ doesn’t have it in him to wake Tyler up once he’s parked his car. The boy grumbles a little grumpily before letting Josh wrap an arm around his waist as they walk. Brendon’s sitting in the waiting room, looking like shit, and doesn’t even protest at the sight of  _Tyler_ being there.

“What happened?” Josh asks. If Tyler didn’t know him like the back of his hand, he’d say that the older man sounded almost bored, but both Tyler and Brendon know he’s secretly concerned.

“He woke me up a few hours ago and told me to take him to an emergency room. He’s having a bunch of tests done, and we’re waiting on his doctor to show up. I think he said something about coughing blood. I dunno.”

Tyler sits uselessly on the other side of Josh, and Josh tugs his friend over and into a hug. Even though Tyler could easily say he hates Brendon, he still feels his heart breaking when he sees the man sobbing into Josh’s chest and gripping the man’s shirt hard enough that it could probably tear if he moved.

Tyler, being the awkward nineteen year old he is, pats Brendon on the arm, and offers to go buy him some tea. Brendon nods, and Josh gives Tyler a  _look_ when the boy asks him for some money since Tyler apparently didn’t have his wallet with him.

Josh hands him a ten dollar bill, and after that, Tyler makes his way to the cafeteria. He remembers the layout of the hospital fairly well, considering he was stuck in it for a good few months or so after the prom incident.

He pockets the change after buying some lukewarm tea. Tyler takes a small sip to make sure it’s good before walking back to the waiting room. Brendon’s still a wreck, but he’s able to collect himself long enough to sip at the tea.

The three of them sit there for a few hours until Josh gets up, saying something about needing to be at work due to a  _very_ important client. Josh goes to take Tyler’s hand, but Tyler shoos him away. “I’m gonna stay. Can I have money for a cab, though…?”

Josh doesn’t gripe as he pulls out his wallet and hands Tyler whatever cash was in it, saying he could keep what he didn’t spend. Tyler thanks him, and if he wasn’t anxious as hell, he probably would’ve giggled when Josh planted a hesitant kiss onto his lips.

Once Josh is gone, Brendon wipes his eyes. “I’ll drive you home later.”

“Thanks.” They sit there silently for another twenty minutes until a man that Tyler assumes is Dallon’s doctor steps into the waiting room, asking for Brendon. Tyler tags along, mumbling out a bullshit lie about being Dallon’s nephew when he’s asked about his relation to the thirty two year old.

“He’s anemic, and his t-cell count dropped considerably. I’ve already changed his medications, and right now he’s a little hopped up on anesthetics.”

“Is he going to be okay, though?”

“I’m optimistic. He has ulcers in his throat and parts of his stomach, probably from stress and acid reflux, and it’s why he was coughing up blood. We’re going to keep him here for a few days, maybe a week at most, just to make sure he’s fine.”

Brendon looks overwhelmed, and Tyler falls into his ‘mother hen’ mode. (By mother hen, he means that he’s good at getting  _Josh_ to calm down, which is a feat in and of itself.) He places a hand on Brendon’s upper back, and asks if they can see Dallon.

\---

To say that Dallon looks like shit is an understatement. He’s curled up under the thin hospital blanket, in an almost fetal position, sleeping not that soundly.

Tyler ducks out of the room once the man wakes up, figuring Brendon needs alone time with him.

Once the nineteen year old is gone, Brendon looks down at Dallon, saying, “Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again. I haven’t cried that much  _ever.”_

“Sh. C’mere,” Dallon motions for Brendon to get onto the bed next to him, and Brendon agrees after a few minutes of Dallon trying to convince him that he wasn’t going to break. Cuddling is a  _little_ hard when there’s an IV in the way, along with a heart monitor connected to one of Dallon’s fingers, but they manage.

“I thought sometime terrible was gonna happen.”

“I just have a cold and acid reflux. It’s gonna take more than that to get rid of me,” Dallon mumbles sleepily as Brendon brushes hair out of his face. “I’ve been hospitalized a few times before, and I absolutely  _refuse_ to let a fucking  _cold_ kill me, so don’t you worry about me, alright?”

“I’m half Hawaiian mother and fully gay. It’s in my blood to worry unnecessarily over you.”  
  
Dallon closes his eyes, and smiles a little bit. “I’d kiss you, but I still taste blood.”

\---

"You've been smoking a lot lately," Tyler comments as Josh is lighting the second cigarette of the hour, as the two of them are lounging around on the couch, sipping wine and watching an old movie.

"I'm just stressed," Is all Josh can say as he tips his head back, the sour smelling smoke filling from his mouth and nostrils, his eyes closing, looking almost relaxed, despite that not being a very factual observation in the slightest.

"What sort of stress?" Tyler turns a little bit in his spot to face Josh, a concerned expression stitched onto his face.

"Just... work stress, you know?"

"Hm." Tyler nods a little bit, and leans forward to set his wine glass down on the coffee table in front of him. After that, he's crawling into Josh's lap and kissing him gently. Josh wouldn't ever say it, Tyler knows that, but he also knows that Josh is somewhat comforted by the affection Tyler shows him, even if it's just a little bit. Anyways, showing him affection, and kissing him and all that mush crap is something that Tyler has  _definitely_ noticed calms him down.

Josh indulges Tyler, kissing him back, and not long after he's stubbing his cigarette out in the ash tray next to where he's sitting, then shooing Tyler off of his lap.

Tyler's confused for a split second until Josh is knocking back the last few swigs of his wine, grimacing just a bit, then lying on his side, patting the space in front of him, meaning for Tyler to lie down facing him. Tyler complies immediately, of course. Their legs tangle together and Tyler ends up with his hand running through Josh's hair. "What's up, J?"

"Well, for starters..." Josh sighs before bringing himself to continue. "There's this fat-cat moneybags politician breathing down my neck."

"You don't run political campaigns, and the election isn't for a few years anyways." Tyler frowns a little bit, slightly befuddled.

"I know. I had a meeting with the guy last week, though, and he's trying to find someone to throw together a good campaign for him, one that's  _different,_ and that  _stands out,_ when the time comes. The only hitch in this giddy up is that he's conservative, and it's common knowledge that he's a homophobe. If I accept his offer, there's going to be good money in it, but I could also potentially fuck Ohio up for the foreseeable future."

"What position is he gunning for?"

"Governor. He used to be the head of law enforcement in Columbus in the mid nineties, and he's been the mayor of Cincinnati for the past six years or so."

"How long do you got to give him an answer?"

"Late 2003, early 2004, at the latest. That's if he doesn't find someone else, though. Other than  _that_ can of shit, I've just been...  _tired."_ Josh sighs and lets Tyler hug him.

"I've noticed. Our sex life has been... _lacking_ as of late."

Josh pulls away from the hug with a dramatic roll of his eyes, and he pecks Tyler on the lips before chuckling for a moment or two. "Shut up, or I'll bust out the handcuffs, mister."

Tyler scoffs, and gets him in the chest with the back of his hand, before giggling. "You shut up. We've never even  _used_ handcuffs before anyways."

"Mm, well, there's  _always_ a first time for everything," Josh sing-songs with a sort of shit-eating little look on his face. He does plant a kiss on Tyler's forehead.

Tyler's the one rolling his eyes now. "You wouldn't actually pull that shit if I didn't want you to, right?"

Josh shakes his head and brushes Tyler's hair out of his face as a rare gesture of genuine affection. "Never in a million years would I do something like that without your explicit consent, and without a lengthy discussion beforehand, alright?"

Tyler finds himself grinning like a dumb ass for some reason. He scoots forward, wrapping an arm around Josh's chest, hugging him again, as best as he can. He mumbles, "I'm really lucky to have you in my life," into Josh's shoulder."

Josh shakes his head a bit, and clicks his tongue. "You've got that backwards, kid."

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong," Tyler pulls away to make eye contact, eyebrows raised; "You're lucky I put up with some of the shit you pull,  _but,_ I'm lucky too."

\---

Tyler spends the next month watching as Josh's sudden affection ebbs away. He doesn't know why he expected it to last in the first place. Tyler tries reasoning with himself--Josh is busy with work, traveling back and forth between Columbus, New York, and Chicago, plus, in general, June tends to be a busy month for him anyways, since it's his birth month, and since he tends to get more clients around that time of year, something about summer, or some other bullshit that Josh has explained a few times but Tyler has never quite remembered.

The point is that Tyler finds himself craving affection, not caring who it comes from, but this time, instead of finding another guy, he corners Josh in his bedroom one morning before he has work, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, looking confrontational as all get out, asking, "What's going on with you, Josh?"

"I'm getting dressed," he mutters, not looking up from where he's pulling his socks on. He sounds like he has more to say, but Tyler knows him, knows that he's not going to say shit, at least not without prior prompting.

"Don't fucking patronize me." Tyler rolls his eyes, obviously not in the mood for Josh's bullshit. "You've been shutting me out again, and I figure that this time I should walk the walk and try talking to you rather than cheating on you with someone else trying to forget about it."

Josh just shrugs, not answering him, opting to just stand up so he can button his shirt. "I have no idea what you're talking about." It's a lousy lie, and he knows it just as much as Tyler does.

"I'm not letting you leave for work until you tell me."

Josh frowns, and finally looks at him. "I have seven inches and eighty pounds of muscle mass on you. You aren't going to stop me."

"You want to fucking try me?" Tyler's eyebrows shoot up, his look turning into a poisonous pointed one. It's at this moment that Josh realizes he isn't going to win.

"Do you  _really_ want to know?" He asks, quietly. He breaks eye contact with Tyler, and after tucking his shirt into his slacks, he reaches down for his shoes, which he'd set next to his bed before his shower.

"If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked. You know that."

Josh sighs as he sits down on the edge of his bed again. His dress shoes are still in one of his hands, and he's staring at them, fiddling with one of the laces with his other hand as he starts speaking. "My doctor thinks I have, and I quote, clinical depression, and I've been dealing with it by drinking and doing drugs. I can't leave work right now to start going to AA or NA again, and every antidepressant I've tried either doesn't work, has a bunch of shitty side effects, or interferes with the shit I drink or the shit I do. I'm supposed to see an actual psychiatrist to see if it's actually  _just_ depression, but I haven't had the time or the energy.  _Now_ can I leave?"

"No, not yet." Tyler lets his arms drop to where they're on his hips, and he quits leaning on the door frame. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What the fuck was I supposed to say?" Josh looks up at him with a look that says,  _"Are you fucking kidding me?"_ "Was I supposed to just go up to you out of the blue one day like, "Hey, Tyler, I'm a fucking weak and pathetic piece of shit who can't get his shit together even though he's thirty goddamn years old; how was  _your_ day?" You  _know_ I don't like people seeing me—seeing me  _vulnerable._ I don't know what the fuck you expect from me."

"Don't snap at me, and, oh, I don't know— _I'd expect you to at least_ trust  _me!_ I'd expect you to trust me enough to say something, because you  _know_ full well that I would've bent over  _backwards_ to help you!"

Josh groans loudly, and throws one of his shoes across the room. Not towards Tyler, no, he'd never do that, but he throws it nonetheless out of frustration. "I don't want your fucking help!" He pretty much screams.

Tyler isn't phased in the slightest.  _"Too fucking bad, Josh!_ We're together,  _partners,_ even, and I  _love_ you, alright?!" Tyler's stepping into the room now, and he's pretty much screaming as well. "Why do you always have to be so fucking self destructive?! I don't  _get it!"_

Josh stands up, effectively getting all up in Tyler's shit.  _"If you want to help me, then you'll march your skinny ass to our kitchen, and you'll get some fucking ibuprofen to help with this stupid fucking hangover that I have! That'd help, rather than fucking_ yelling  _at me over some dumb bullshit!"_ Josh  _does_ nudge Tyler a little sharply with two of his fingers.

Tyler feels his chin quivering a little bit, a tell-tale sign he's about to cry, and he just gives Josh a sad look before obeying the request, silently and obediently.  _It's not worth it to get him worked up this early. Asshole._

\---

Josh does what he does every year on his birthday—he goes on a drug binge and gets super fucked up, leaving Tyler with the task of nursing him through his hangover/crash. Josh insists and is bound and  _determined_ to go to work two days after he turns thirty one, and Tyler doesn't bother stopping him, because Josh gets cranky when he's hungover like this, and although Tyler tends to have the patience of a saint when it comes to Josh, he's not  _that_ patient.

Tyler goes on about his day that day. He only has classes in the morning on this specific day, and once he's home again, he spends the rest of his day trying to work on polishing up a few songs, and only detaches himself from his work when he notices the room he uses as a studio getting dark from the sun going down.

Tyler checks the time on the computer in the room once he notices the setting sun, and since it's nine, and also since it's, like, dark, he decides to, for sure, call it quits. Before leaving the room, he makes sure that everything he's going to need for whenever he's in there to work on music again is where it needs to be.

Tyler stretches like a cat and yawns once the door to the room is closed behind him. He exhales slowly, and pops his neck before he's stalking down the hallway, almost silently, en route to the kitchen to get something to drink. He stops dead in his tracks when he finds Josh standing in the kitchen, staring into the sink.

Tyler's cautious as he approaches the man, taking note of the rank scent that crack always leaves on him, mixed with the absolutely  _sour_ smell of the strain of weed that he pays a fucking mint for. This goes without saying, but he's drunk on top of that—Tyler can see the glass next to Josh that has maybe a sip's worth of scotch in it. "What's wrong?" he asks, gently and carefully, placing his hands on Josh's shoulders as he does so.

Josh takes awhile to answer, and when he does, Tyler  _feels_ his heart dropping into his stomach. "I got fired."

Tyler knows what Josh's job is to him. It's his life. Advertising is all the man knows, and it's, literally, his fucking dream job. Tyler's well aware of that, and he's well aware of the fact that his partner just  _lost_ his dream job out of basically nowhere.

Tyler moves his hands from Josh's shoulders, and takes to wrapping his arms around the man's waist. Josh would never ask him, but Tyler's, like, ninety percent sure he needs a huge right now. Tyler's forehead rests against the back of Josh's shoulder, and he shamelessly breathes in the man's scent, somehow enjoying it.

They stand there like that, Josh not moving a muscle, and Tyler unsure on what to say, at least until Josh is peeling Tyler's arms from around him, and beginning to head out of the kitchen and towards where he keeps his  _shit_ at, saying, "I need to take something."

Tyler grabs his arm, though. "Now's not the time, especially not with what you've already done this evening." Josh goes to protest, to defy him, but Tyler cuts him off, tone sounding almost desperate. "You need help, Josh." Tyler likes playing dumb, and not  _just_ around other people. He likes playing dumb and pretending that Josh is perfectly fine, and that he doesn't have any problems, but right now something inside of him is clicking into place, and he's  _done_ ignoring Josh's issues.

Josh tries tugging his arm free of Tyler's grasp, but the boy just digs his fingers in, not willing to let go yet. "Tyler,  _please."_ Josh's voice is almost silent, a whisper, a  _plea._ Tyler sort of wants to just let him go and let him do whatever, but he's more stubborn than Josh is. "I really don't want to feel anything right now."

"No. I don't like dealing with my shit, but you don't see me getting shitfaced every night."

Josh stays perfectly still after that, and Tyler just watches in horror over the minute it takes for Josh to start tearing up. Josh has cried in front of Tyler on three separate occasions, and each time, it just  _hits him._ Josh doesn't gradually start crying; it always just  _hits him_  like a sack of bricks, and by the time Josh is trembling and sniffing, Tyler's taking action, silently leading him towards the bedroom.

Tyler makes him sit down on the bed, and leaves for less than a minute to get a bottle of water. When he returns, Josh is on his back, staring at the ceiling, not even bothering to wipe at his eyes or nose, and he's yanking at his tie and the collar of his shirt, muttering about not being able to breathe and all he can hear is the pulse in his ears and Tyler trying to get him to sit up again so he can help him out of his clothes.

Tyler can feel that Josh is burning up—it's something that crack always does to him--but he doesn't comment on it. He just unties Josh's tie, slowly and gently, then unbuttons his shirt for him. He's so gentle and careful about taking Josh's shoes and socks off for him, noting that Josh is shaking way too much to really do anything on his own. He tries, and fails, to unbuckle his own belt, wanting to just be out of his clothes, and to not feel so confined. His hands keep slipping, and Tyler ends up gently batting them a way with a quick kiss to his cheek and a quiet little shush.

Once he's finally,  _finally,_ down to just his underwear, Tyler sits in front of him, facing him, holding the mans hands in his own, and using his steady  _please just listen to me_ voice as he instructs him; "Breathe with me, alright? In for four seconds, and our for four seconds."

Josh nods weakly. He knows the drill—he went to therapy for a session or two in his early twenties--and Tyler has a lot of panic attacks anyways, so Josh likes to consider himself mildly knowledgeable, and Tyler the true expert.  _Anyways,_ he's to the point of being willing to do  _anything_ just to  _stop this._ It takes him awhile of breathing in time with Tyler, and maybe a few kisses on the cheek from Tyler, for his breathing to eventually even out. He's still crying, of course, and even sobbing here and there, but Tyler's there, solid and steady, with arms wrapped around his shoulders, but,  _at the very least,_ Josh can breathe and he's getting enough oxygen.

He lets out a shuddering sigh against Tyler's shoulder before admitting something. "I hate myself so fucking much."

Tyler doesn't know what to say, because he gets it. He knows the feeling more than anyone.

"I'm just—I'm such a shitty person, and I ruin  _everything_ I touch."

Tyler shushes him a little bit, splaying his fingers across one of Josh's shoulder blades.

"I'm so—so  _obsessed_ with trying to just--trying--trying to do  _something,_ I don't even know what anymore, but I'm so sick and fucking  _tired_ of it." There's a two minute pause and a few murmured comments of,  _'Breath, Josh,'_ before Josh continues. "Everyone I've ever loved  _leaves_ me, and, hell,  _you_ almost did." Tyler manages not to let his breath hitch at that. It's the closest Josh has gotten to telling him that he loves him. "I treat you like shit all the goddamn time, and I don't even know  _why._ I don't want to be like this, you know? But I  _am--_ it's like some sort of reflex, and I would  _die_ to just be a normal fucking person, but I can't. I just  _can't._ I want something to happen to me. I want something bad to happen to me, because I hate feeling so fucking  _terrible."_

Tyler does physically react once Josh is done, because he didn't realize how  _bad_ he was actually doing, and he hasn't seen anyone in so much  _pain_ before. He curses himself for not knowing, and curses himself for being wrapped up in his own shit.  _Though... I did almost die last year..._

"I'm not going anywhere, Josh," Tyler assures him. He punctuates the statement with a kiss pressed against Josh's head. "I don't think you're a bad person when it comes down to it, alright? You... You're not perfect, you're far from it, actually, but that's fine. You're a person with a lot of flaws, as am I. Anyways, if you were really as terrible as you think you are, then I wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be able to honestly say that I love you more than you'll ever even be able to comprehend." Tyler runs his long and slender fingers through Josh's hair, and holds him a little tighter.

Josh nods and lets himself relax the tiniest bit.

"I think that tomorrow, you need to call your doctor, and you need to ask him for a referral to a psychiatrist. I'm going to call around, and see if I can't find you an NA group to go to, preferably one that The Center runs. I know full well that you hate The Center, and I know that you don't want to do this, but you need to, babe. You just... You've got a problem, and you need help. I don't want you to feel like this, Josh."

At that, Josh starts crying  _more,_ and Tyler starts panicking, hushing him and trying to figure out what the hell he did wrong, but Josh cuts him off by saying, "You are just so,  _so_ much more than I deserve."

\---

Josh sighs to himself, and mentally curses Tyler for making him go back to NA. He's been to a few NA and AA groups in the past, but he still finds it utterly humiliating each time, especially when it's his turn to speak. This group is one that's run by the Ohio LGBT Center, meaning it's a queer friendly place, and that it's also a fifteen minute walk from his apartment. Josh also doesn't feel as threatened as he thinks he should as he introduces himself and explains why he's there.

He stands at the podium in the room. The podium is kind of a centerpiece—the thing holding the room together, and it's natural that everyone's gaze ends up focused on him as he stands behind it, speaking. "My name is Josh, and I am an addict," he starts. He hates that he sounds like he's fresh out of some shitty Lifetime drama, but, despite that, he still continues after the chorus of,  _"Hello, Josh,"_ that echoes throughout the room. "I've been having a... shitty year. I was mostly clean for awhile, but, um... My partner almost died a little over a year ago, and since then, everything's just been... getting worse. I had a breakdown a few weeks ago, lost my dream job because of drugs and all the other shit on my place, so I... I'm here, I guess. I'm, uh, done speaking." He awkwardly nods and steps right back down from the podium and goes back to his seat.

He zones out for the rest of the meeting, and if he didn't know Tyler, he would've just left early, but he figures that Tyler's going to ask him where his welcome chip is, so he decides to stick around until one gets passed out to him.

\---

Brendon sends Josh a text while he's walking back to his apartment, asking him if he wants to hit up Atlantis and get shitfaced. Usually, Josh probably would've already been at the club, but he just replies with,  _"I'm busy tonight. Sorry."_

Josh stops at the diner on his way home, and orders two meals to go, figuring Tyler would probably want something to eat. He's fiddling with the chip while he waits for Pete to bring him his order, apparently forgetting that the man is basically a hawk.

Pete points at Josh's hand, asking, "What do ya got there, Josh?"

Josh pockets the chip as soon as the question is out, and shakes his head. "It's nothing. I just want my food."

"Bullshit." Pete rolls his eyes. "What is it?"

"Drop it, Peter," Josh grits out.

"I can just ask Tyler. I'm sure he'd know."

Josh glares at him, because, hey, he's being a dick. He hands the chip to him so he can examine it. "Is this...?" Pete's eyebrows are so far up his forehead, and he's looking from Josh's face back to the chip in his hand.

"I started going to NA again. First meeting was tonight," Josh admits this, quietly, and puffs out a breath. "Things got... bad. Tyler made me go."

Josh is expecting Pete to tease him, to put him down, but he doesn't. Instead, he smiles warmly, and Josh remembers that Pete's pretty much like a father to him, even after everything that's happened. "Good. I'm happy for you. You need it. Sorry if that sounded facetious, but I mean it, Josh. I'm proud of you."

Pete hands the chip back across the counter, and Josh would be lying if he said he didn't have to wipe at one of his eyes. "Don't tell anyone," he mumbles. "You and Tyler are the only ones who know right now."

"Loos lips sink ships."

\---

Josh hands the welcome chip to Tyler, and explains what it is. "They, uh... hand them out to new members."

Tyler pulls Josh into a hug, and says, "I'm proud of you."

Josh hugs him back, and he doesn't let go right away. Honestly, aside from Pete, like, ten minutes ago, he's pretty sure that's the first time anyone's ever said that to him and actually,  _genuinely_ meant it. He takes both himself and Tyler by surprise when he finds himself almost silently whispering, "I love you," into the top of Tyler's head.

He's half expecting Tyler to overreact, but he doesn't. Instead, he just hugs Josh tighter, and says, "I love you too," right back to him.

\---

The morning after the NA meeting, Tyler and Josh walk hand in hand to the diner. Tyler's still blooming with pride for his partner, and Josh just feels... calm. Calmer than he has in a  _very_ long time.

Josh can't quite shake this weird, surreal sort of feeling that he's feeling. He doesn't know why everything feels so surreal to him right now, but it  _does._ He slowly works on eating the plate of waffles he orders, listening to Tyler yammer on about something to do with his music.

Brendon saunters into the diner eventually, and Josh reluctantly scoots over in his seat to allow Brendon to sit. He finds himself wincing slightly when his best friend asks, "What? No hangover food?" in a snide tone after noticing his choice of cuisine.

Josh just casually says, "I wasn't drinking last night with a shrug." He looks up and catches the look Tyler's giving Brendon—one saying  _I dare you to say something, asshole._

Brendon doesn't buy it, of course. He just snorts and guffaws. "Right! You were busy and  _not_ drinking. Pigs can fly." Brendon's too comfortable with Josh, he realizes. He's too used to not expecting any repercussions for his snide remarks.

Josh doesn't bother trying to fight him, though. He doesn't have the energy.

Tyler feels bad for him when he catches the defeated look on his face, and when he hears Josh sigh in that way that he does when he's about to have one of his twice yearly panic attacks, he reaches across the table and holds the man's hand in his own. Surprisingly enough, Josh reciprocates, just before he's pressing the palm of his other hand against his eye, rubbing, and sighing once again, trying not to fucking cry. He can already feel that stupid, hot feeling of tears starting to build up in his eyes, though.

"Jesus, Josh--are you  _crying?"_ Brendon doesn't actually look that concerned and, in fact, he sounds as if he's about to laugh at Josh, and, alright, it definitely takes everything in Tyler not to reach across the table and slap him across the face for the second time ever, especially as the conversation goes on.

Josh takes a deep breath, and shakes his head before placing his palm down flat on the table. He breathes deliberately a few times, takes a sip of his orange juice, before answering with, "No."

"Did Tyler knock you up or something...?" Brendon quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Uh, actually, I started going to NA again. First meeting was last night." Tyler's sure to rub his thumb across Josh's as he says that.

"Huh." Brendon's eyebrows drop now, furrowing. "Good luck, I guess. How long is it gonna last this time?"

Josh shrugs, signaling he doesn't know, because he doesn't, and Tyler snaps at Brendon. "Why can't you just have a little  _faith_ in him? At least he's trying, which is a  _helluva_ lot more than I can say for a  _lot_ of people."

"Because, in the past, he's never stuck with it for more than a month or two. It's like the boy who cried wolf. It's hard to take him seriously, especially after he's cried wolf so many times in the past."

"Get the fuck out of here," Tyler tells him, his face twisting into a nasty glare. If Tyler didn't like Brendon before, he definitely doesn't like him now. He only gets a disgruntled look out of the man before he's getting up and moving to sit at a different booth.

Josh is quiet for a few moments before letting go of Tyler's hand, saying, "He's right."

"No, he's not. He's an asshole. A manipulative and abusive asshole, in my opinion." Tyler takes a sip of his own drink, a loud one, as if to punctuate his sentence.

"It's not like he's hitting me or anything, though," Josh mutters.

"You of all people should know that there's other kinds of abuse. If he's going to be enabling you, or just treating you like that, then you need to cut him off. You deserve better."

"You're too wise for a nineteen year old."

"Listen, man--my mom's fucking terrible, and I've had friends like Brendon before. It's not rocket science." Tyler offers him a kind grin.

\---

Later in the day, Josh is sitting in one of his bar stools, spinning around slightly, staring at the ceiling as he does, while Tyler's working on fixing lunch for either of them. "I think I might go to Deb's later," he says, as if it's an after thought.

Tyler looks over his shoulder for a few moments. "Why?"

"I want to talk to her, and I kind of want to see Nathan."

"Do you need me to go with you?"

Josh thinks about it for a few minutes, but decides that, no, he wants to talk to Debby on his own.

\---

Josh texts Debby, and after finding out that Jenna was not, in fact, home, he's pretty quick about traveling from his apartment to where she lives in a completely different part of Columbus. (Whereas Josh lives downtown in a rather large apartment building, Debby and Jenna live in a suburban neighborhood fit for raising a family.)

Once she opens her front door and sees Josh, she gives him a tight hug, and, for once, Josh actually returns it. Debby tells him that she's in the middle of fixing up a meal for herself and Nathan while she's leading him through the house.

Josh just nods, and once in the kitchen, he takes one of the dining chairs and scoots it just a little bit to where he can sit closer to his son, who is sitting in a high chair, babbling and eating Cheerios.

"How old is he?" Josh asks, a pang of guilt coursing through his body, because, hey, he can't even remember how old his damn son is.

"He turns three in January," Debby answers simply and seemingly without judgment. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Life, I guess. I started going to NA again."

Debby doesn't say anything specific, or really even ask anything, other than, "Why?"

"Things just got... really bad really suddenly, so Tyler made me go. I mean... I lost my  _job,_ Deb. I almost lost Tyler, and I even lost my pissy attitude, so that's something."

"Didn't you use to see a doctor about anxiety or something?"

"Once upon a time, yes. Uh... Actually, though... I had an appointment with a psychiatrist last week. I've been... going through some stuff, I suppose. The shit with Tyler last year started it, I believe, or at least made it worse. That's what the shrink told me, at least."

Debby snorts a little bitterly. "You  _were_ pretty shaken up, if memory serves me correctly." She turns around from the counter in her kitchen, and steps towards Nathan's high chair with a plate of banana slices. She sits across from Josh as she asks, "How's Tyler been handling all of this?"

"Surprisingly well, honestly. So far, he's pretty much the only one who's been actively trying to support me. He's a fucking saint, I swear. I don't know how he has the patience to deal with all my bullshit."

"He loves you, Josh. More than any of us do. Personally, I'm very glad that you're trying. I think stuff like this takes a lot of guts."

Josh gives her a bit of a sad, half-grin. "I know he does. I just... I need awhile to get back on my feet. I have enough savings to be fine for a long time, but I still need to work."

"I never thought I'd live to see the day that these words left my mouth, but, I think you need to take some time to yourself, to work on your own problems rather than ignoring them. I'm always here if you need someone to talk to, by the way. You're like a brother to me."

"Thank you."

"Anyways... How's everyone else doing as far as being supportive goes...?"

"Pete seems happy for me, and Brendon doesn't think it will stick. Tyler just about ripped him a new asshole. I haven't, uh, told anyone else, but I figure Brendon's going to tell the professor, and Pete's probably going to tell Patrick, and I assume you're going to tell Jenna."

\---

Josh has a habit of opening up to Tyler just before they fall asleep, no matter how late it is, and no matter how tired either of them are. Tyler doesn't mind it, though. He's just glad that Josh is talking to him.

"I apparently have low self esteem according to the therapist I've been seeing."

"Why'd she figure that?" Tyler asks him.

"Just... some of the shit I said hinted at it, or something. I said something about feeling like I didn't deserve anything good, especially not you, and she asked me why, y'know?"

"And what did you say?" Tyler rolls over after asking this so he can face Josh, and so he can play with the man's hair a little bit while they talk.

"That I don't know, because honestly, I don't. I just... I kind of figured that, after all of the shitty things I've done, that I just... don't. Y'know?"

"I get that, trust me. Have you figured anything else out about the depression stuff...?"

"Yeah. I did a symptom checklist thingy, or whatever the fuck my psych called it. I have three different types of anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder, partially from the environment I grew up in, and partially from a few other things, clinical depression, and I'm also bipolar, apparently. S'why the medications weren't working. Well, that and the fact I was drinking like a fish and doing tons of drugs."

"Type one or two?"

"Two. It's... weird. Things make more sense now, I guess. I dunno. I'm, uh... also taking new medications."

"What are you taking?"

"At the moment I'm taking Vistaril, Lamictal, and a low dose of Wellbutrin. The first one is for anxiety, the second one is a mood stabilizer, and the last one is an antidepressant. I think the anxiety one is working. I don't know about the mood stabilizer or the anti depressant and I probably won't for awhile. Uh. The psychiatrist said if the depression stuff sticks around, he'll either switch my meds up, or up my dose of whatever the hell. Honestly, I don't even care. I just want to stop feeling like shit."

Tyler nods. "I've been on and off so many medications, man. I definitely get that."

"I'm aware. I pay for them." Josh chuckles a little bit, and Tyler grins an even littler bit.

"I'm currently taking the ones you're taking, plus another antidepressant on top of that."

"That's a lot."

"It happens, I guess."

Josh kisses Tyler on the forehead. "The, uh, therapist told me to try socializing more, to start off with, at least. Unfortunately, I don't quite know how to do that. Brendon, still, is my only friend, but we all know how that's going, and I'm pretty sure everyone else I know, besides you, hates me."

"That ain't true. Pete worries about you, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, and I'm pretty sure Patrick's in the same boat as he is. Also, Debby adores you, and even though Jenna isn't overly fond of you, I'm pretty sure she cares about you more than she lets on."

Josh grunts a bit, and changes the subject. "I want to start doing things with you. Like, uh..."

Josh is getting flustered, and Tyler's smirking a little bit.

"I want to try spending more time with you. Like, I dunno... maybe try going on dates or something, or maybe go on a vacation."

"I'd like that, Josh. Baby steps, alright? Don't force yourself." Tyler kisses Josh on the lips, and hugs him as best as he can.

\---

Pete's wiping down cups when he leans across the counter, towards Patrick, to whisper, "Look at Josh."

Patrick turns his head towards where Pete's subtly pointing, looking to where Josh is sitting at a booth with Tyler next to a window. Josh is smiling almost softly, and Tyler's just looking right back at him with an adoring and love-struck look on his face. "Is he alright?"

"He's been clean for almost three months. I think that's his record. I really hope this sticks. He's way nicer when he isn't using." Pete shakes his head a little bit, and grabs another cup to wipe down.

"He's still kind of a dick when he's clean, though."

"Honestly...? He really isn't. Tyler has some sort of... effect on him. Also, I mean, he cut Brendon off, which I, personally, think was a good choice."

Patrick nods, and takes a sip of his coffee. "Good. Brendon's sort of taken up Josh's old role of being the village asshole as of late. Can't imagine why Dallon puts up with his shit. He's so fucking...  _preachy."_

"Probably for the same reason Tyler puts up with Josh's shit, and probably for the same reason I put up with yours when we were together."

Patrick sighs, and smiles sadly. "I'm sorry we didn't work out."

"I've just talked it up to right place, wrong time."

\---

After months of hard work, Tyler finishes an album. A full on fifteen songs plus three bonus tracks  _album._ At this point in time, it's roughly a week after he's turned twenty, and Josh, once again, agrees to run an ad campaign that blows the panties off of consumers.

Tyler manages to be civil as he comes to an agreement with Brendon to sell the  _album_ in the man's record store, similar to the EP, and he also manages to chat up a few other people who have the means to further along his career.

\---

"I don't need a party, Pete," Tyler mutters quietly as he makes himself at home on Pete's couch.

"You literally made an entire album on your own, and you're  _twenty._ You're getting a party whether you like it or not," Pete retorts in a raised voice from his kitchen.

He walks back into his living room with a few bottles of beer, and offers one to Tyler, but the boy shakes his head and politely declines. "I'm good. I've decided to quit drinking and using after the whole thing with Josh."

Pete shrugs nonchalantly. "More for me, I guess. That's good, though. You're a year too young anyways."

Tyler rolls his eyes.

"Why are you here anyways?"

"Josh is at a doctor's appointment, and he has, like, a bunch of other shit to do today, and I don't have any classes until the afternoon, so, I figured that it'd be fun to park my ass on your couch rather than my own."

"Oh? Your own? What happened to 'Josh's this' and 'Josh's that'?"

Tyler rolls his eyes. Again. "His apartment is my home too, y'know. I'm used to sharing things with him. It's not that deep."

Pete clicks his tongue, and Tyler knows he's getting  _the look._ The look that means Pete's trying his damnedest not to tease him.

\---

"Are you sure you want to go? There's going to be alcohol."

Josh bats Tyler's hands away from his shoulders. "I'm going. You worked hard, and I've invested quite a bit of money in you. I'll be fine. Anyways, you'll be there, and you're oddly persuasive."

Tyler huffs at him. "I just don't want things getting bad again, alright? The seventeenth of January marks six months, which,  _by the way,_ I'm super proud of you for." He kisses Josh's cheek gently.

Josh lets out a little huff of his own as he's scooting back in his desk chair, before rolling it towards a filing cabinet. While he's looking through one of the drawers, he mumbles, "It's not really that impressive."

"Oh, don't be modest." Tyler rolls his eyes into the back of his head. "I, myself, am quite impressed with you." And now he's offering Josh a grin.

Josh turns towards him, a file in one of his hands. As he's rolling back towards his desk, he responds. "What? Did you think I couldn't do it?"

"Nope, not at all. I knew you could. I have a surprising amount of faith in you, y'know." Tyler pulls a chair over to Josh's desk, and makes sure to give Josh a look that totally makes him secretly melt.

Josh scrunches his face up a little bit. "I think you believe in me more than  _I_ believe in me."

"Someone has to, and I mean, I love you more than anything, so I don't see why it shouldn't be me. Anyways, what are you doing? You've been at your desk, like, all day."

"Mm, well, I'm toying with the idea of starting my own advertising agency," Josh flips open the file that was in his hands, and reaches for his reading glasses, which he keeps next to his desk. He wipes them down with a tissue before putting them on and ignoring Tyler, who calls him a nerd.

"Do it. I've always wanted to fuck a CEO. Something about someone in a position of power taking advantage of me, a stunning young ingenue, always gets me going."

Josh starts laughing. "I love you, but you're so full of shit, Tyler.  _Though,_ this would explain why our relationship works, what with you being eleven and a half years younger than me."

"See, you're implying that you're in charge, which is totally wrong. I'm  _so_ the one in charge in our relationship."

"Really?" Josh looks and sounds unimpressed.

"Mhm. Right now, if I asked you to give me twenty bucks, or if I asked you to go get me a glass of water or something, you'd totally listen to me."

"Twenty bucks and a glass of water doesn't mean you're in charge, you dickhead.  _Anyways,_ this isn't about you getting to fuck a CEO. This is about me getting my shit together."

"Oh, c'mon, Joshie. Live a little." Tyler pouts.

"I've lived  _plenty._ Honestly, I just want some peace and quiet right now."

Tyler groans. "Ew. Quit being so old."

"I'm thirty."

"Thirty one."

"Whatever. I'm not  _old._ You're just young and inexperienced compared to me."

"I am  _not_ inexperienced. I have, like, done things." Tyler's joking, and he's trying not to start giggling. Josh is smiling a little bit as he goes over a sheet of paper.

"Babe, you're barely twenty. You still have plenty of living to do."

"I  _have_ lived, man. I have spent the past, like, three years fucking my brains out, and I have done  _drugs."_

"You're cute," Josh drawls with a quirked brow.

"Oh, fuck off, you dick. Not everyone has the time for a decade of drug use and one night stands."

"Fair enough. Also, that reminds me--I haven't slept with anyone, besides you, since my birthday."

Tyler lets his jaw drop. "No way. Sex is, like, your middle name!"

"I haven't, and, no, it's William. I haven't been out anywhere, so I haven't really had the chance."

"You must be itching to tap the ass of some other cute twink."

Josh looks at Tyler, face slightly perplexed. "Honestly? I'm not. Like... for the first time in my life... I'm  _satisfied_ with what I have. I mean,  _sure,_ I'm not exactly where I want to be, and my life isn't perfect, but I just--I don't have this need to fill up the void with sex anymore. I have other shit I want to do, y'know?"

"It's still cool that I've been sleeping with other people, right?"

"Just as long as it isn't more than once. That's still part of our agreement, so don't sweat it."

Tyler gets up and walks around Josh's desk, chest swelling with affection for the man. He bends down a little bit, saying, "Gimme a kiss."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm cute and we love each other?"

"Mm... that's a good point." Josh turns his head a little bit to kiss Tyler.

\---

Josh finds himself sitting off to the side as he watches Tyler chat a few people up. He's a little bored, and not overly interested in talking to anyone. he ignores the dirty looks that he catches Brendon throwing his way, not even bothering to return them. Brendon can be angry all he wants, but Josh is trying to learn how to just let things  _go._

Josh finds himself giving  _Dallon_ a weird look when the man is walking over to sit at his table with him. Josh speaks before Dallon can get a word in edgewise. "Aren't you supposed to hate me?"

He shrugs. "Probably. Brendon... Well, he's Brendon, but just because he doesn't like you at the moment doesn't mean that I don't. Anyways, I consider Tyler a friend, and I see him on a daily basis, so it's just easier if I don't hate you, y'know?"

Josh grunts, and shifts awkwardly. "Why are you over here instead of being with your little housewife?"

"Brendon's half past plastered, and I don't drink more than a beer here and there every few weeks. I also figured you could use some company." Dallon smiles politely, and Josh sighs internally.

He makes a noise of affirmation before he starts working on making a crane out of a napkin.

Dallon starts talking again. "Did I ever tell you how I got HIV?"

Josh answers boredly, with, "Let me guess--you let someone fuck you without a condom."

Dallon shakes his head gently and patiently with a sad little smile. "When I first started college, I had a few not-so-great friends. I'm not going to give you my sob story--I usually save that for my family--but it's kind of like those anti-drug commercials." Dallon rolls his sleeves up, and shows Josh his arms. There's a bunch of tiny, faint, round scars that Josh recognizes way too easily. Hell, he has a few of his own.

"Track marks. Huh. Didn't peg you for the type." Josh shrugs.

"Yeah. Most of the people I've told don't. Anyways, I just... I was in a real shitty place. I was depressed when I was a teenager, and that didn't just magically go away the second I went to college. One of my not-so-great friends offered me something that would supposedly make everything better, y'know?"

Josh nods, because he knows.

"It went on for a few years, I did what I could to cop heroin here and there, had a few incidents with overdosing, and somewhere along the way, I used a dirty needle. I quit cold turkey after I got diagnosed, and spent a little under a year in a rehab center before moving here, finishing my degree, and getting the job I have now. February 10th, 2003, marks ten years."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Josh is frowning a little bit, since he doesn't  _get it._ He hasn't spoken more than a few words to Dallon since he's met the guy, yet here he is, spilling his guts.

"I know that we don't really know each other too well, and I know you didn't like me a whole lot when me and Brendon first started seeing each other, but I just... Tyler told me what was going on, since he's one of my students, and since I'm some sort of figurehead in his life, and I just wanted to let you know that you're not alone, alright? You probably still have a lot of shit to go through, and if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to talk to, feel free to hit me up. Also, don't worry about Brendon. Any conversation we might or might not have is totally confidential, and if he ever says anything, I'll handle it, since he at least listens to me."

"Does he know? About your stuff, I mean." Josh doesn't really know what to think.

"No. I haven't gotten around to telling him. I usually don't tell anyone, if I'm honest."

Josh looks down at his hands, which are fidgeting with the napkin crane he'd made. "I don't... I don't really open up to anyone. Ever. I mean, I've opened up to my therapist, and to Tyler, of course, but I have trouble trusting people. Too many people have broken my trust, so I've just stopped. Or, well, I stopped until I met Tyler, I guess."

"I'd tell you that you can trust me, but that's up to you to decide. Like I said, any conversations we might or might not have, Brendon won't hear a word of. It's none of his business unless you make it his business."

Josh wipes at one of his eyes, and sighs a little bit, since he didn't realize he'd been tearing up. "Thank you. For saying all of that, I mean. It, uh... it means a lot more than you think. Everyone's been so..." Josh trails off.

"Unsupportive?"

"Yeah. That. Debby, Pete, and Tyler are the only ones who haven't said anything discouraging, at least to my face, and you, I guess, but we don't talk regularly."

"I know the feeling, man. Trust me. Um. Do you want a hug...? You look kind of miserable right now."

Josh shakes his head. "No thank you. I have Tyler for that."

Dallon smiles at him, and as he gets up to gravitate back towards Brendon, he pats him on the back. "Gotcha."

\---

"Why were you all buddy-buddy with Josh?" Brendon asks, sounding grumpy, as he's following Dallon into their shared apartment. His tone is laced with annoyance and distaste.

"I was just talking to him," Dallon replies, calmly.

"You shouldn't talk to him." Brendon says this as he's taking both his and Dallon coats, and hanging them up on the coat rack by the door.

"Why not?"

"He's an asshole." And now, Brendon is shrugging, and walking towards the kitchen to get a bottle of beer.

"Just because you don't like him, doesn't mean that I don't."

Brendon rolls his eyes. "Look, he's just... he's  _different._ He won't talk to me, and he barely even looks at me whenever we see each other in the diner.  _I'm_ his best friend. He can't just--he can't just cut me off."

"Have you ever wondered  _why_ he cut you off?"

Brendon squints, and makes eye contact with Dallon. "What are you implying?"

"I'm just saying that you haven't exactly been the most supportive person ever, and that sometimes staying clean means cutting off certain people."

"He's just some fucking  _tweaker."_ Brendon follows Dallon towards the living room, and stands in front of where the man sits on the couch. While Dallon's taking his shoes off, he starts speaking again. "I don't get why he's doing all of this. He always relapses."

"It just looks like he wants to get his shit together. To me, at least."

"He's never going to. I  _know_ him. I've known him since we were twelve. I mean, 'Once an addict, always an addict,' isn't a saying for no reason. Like, addicts--they  _never_ get their shit together."

Dallon lets Brendon go on for a few minutes before he quietly and calmly says, "You do know I've been clean for nine years and ten months, right?"

"I--I'm sorry,  _what?"_

"I did a lot of heroin in the late eighties, early nineties, and it's why I have HIV. I was even in rehab for awhile, but I finished my degree, and got an alright job, so, personally, I don't think you have any right, whatso-fucking-ever, to say that addicts can't get their shit together."

Of course, Brendon tries backtracking, tries apologizing, but Dallon isn't having any of it, and he still ends up grabbing his keys and leaving the apartment for the night as to avoid a fight.

\---

“Tyler?” Josh looks to the left of his laptop screen, so he can make eye contact with Tyler, who is on the other side of the room working on homework.

“What is it, Josh?” Tyler doesn’t look up from his text book.

“Do you have Patrick’s phone number?”

“I do, but my cell is in your room charging.”

“I need an accountant. I’m trying to get my finances in order, but I fucking  _suck_ at it.”

“You want me to go get my phone, then?”

“If you would, yeah.”

Tyler just nods before getting up and heading towards the bedroom. He checks the percentage on his phone, and it’s at three out of four bars, so he brings it to Josh. Before handing it to him, though, he holds his hand out of reach, saying, “Before I give this to you, I want to know whether or not you’re overworking yourself again.”

“I’m not, Tyler. I just need to figure out how much money I actually have to spend between bills, rent, your tuition, and doctor’s appointments.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m  _fine._ Give me your fucking phone.” Josh looks tired, and ends up saying, “Please.”

Tyler hands it to him before going back to sitting at the coffee table. Josh is on the phone with Patrick for a while, and about an hour after the call ends, Patrick shows up, looking as pristine and formal as ever.

Tyler’s done with his assignment at this point, so he asks either of the men if they’d like something to eat, and after a shrug from Josh and a ‘sure’ from Patrick, Tyler excuses himself to go buy the things he’d need to make what he had in mind.

Patrick pulls a chair from Josh’s dining room to sit next to him at his desk, and asks, “What, specifically, do you need me to help with?”

“I just need to figure out a budget, and how much I have to spend.”

“You’re good at math, Josh.”

“I paid someone to do my homework for me in both high school and college,” Josh states, simply. “How much do you make in a year?”

“Thirty five grand, give or take, after taxes. Why?”

“Been toying with starting my own agency. Was thinking about hiring you.”

“Make me an offer and I’ll look into it when the time comes.”

“Is seventy grand enough for you to quit your job once I get my ducks in a row?”

“Fuck yeah. Anyways--finances. Uh…” Patrick pulls out a notebook and hands it, along with a pen, to Josh. “Write down your monthly expenses, and what you have in your bank account right now.”

“What counts as expenses?”

“Anything. Bills, rent, groceries, personal stuff, and anything else.”

“Okay. Uh.”

 

_Bills - ~$750_

_Rent - ~$5K_

_Groceries - ~$200-$500_

_Porn Subscriptions - ~$200_

_Doctor’s Appointments - ~$300_

_Counseling - ~$200 per weekly session_

_Tyler’s Tuition - ~$4500 per month between Sep-Jun_

 

“Please tell me you’re loaded.”

Josh scribbles down the exact amount of money in his bank account.

 

_$5,230,517.17_

 

“Okay, before we get down to the nitty-gritty stuff, can I ask  _how…?”_

“I’ve been saving every penny basically since I started my last job at twenty three. Also, Dad left me a decent inheritance and I cashed in a trust fund when I turned twenty five.”

“Monthly expenses…” Patrick mutters as he slides the notebook back over to him. Josh can hear him counting under his breath, until he scribbles down a number below Josh’s total funds.

 

_~$12,050_

 

“Give or take a few hundred. Yearly it probably rounds up to one-forty, so, objectively, you really aren’t spending a whole lot. Though, your rent and Tyler’s tuition is fucking ridiculous.”

“Yeah, no shit. Oh, wait, fuck…” Josh scrambles around for a few seconds before he finds his check book. “I usually give Deb three grand a month for Nathan.”

“Okay, that makes it fifteen, and yearly it’s probably going to round up to two hundred, give or take.”

“Alright, alright. I’ve already applied for a business license, and I’ve been looking at office buildings. What should my budget for that be?”

“I would advise that you start small. Don’t buy anything ridiculous. Personally, I recommend running your business out of your home until you’re making more than you’re spending, but if that isn’t an option, I’d say a million,  _at most._ ”

“Why start small?”

“Expanding too quickly will easily throw you into debt. Start talking to your old clients, try winning a few of them over. Build up a small list of  _loyal_ clients.”

“So far it’s Tyler, Brendon, and Tyler’s dad.”

“How much do they give you?”

“Tyler’s inconsistent, since I’m working with him for free, but usually at  _least_ fifty bucks a month. I get a five percent cut of whatever he makes. I usually go through Dallon if I need to hash shit out with Brendon, but that’s twenty five hundred per quarter. Tyler’s dad is usually about four thousand each quarter.”

“Okay, yeah, definitely build up a list of clients.”

“I need to hire people, too. I can’t do  _all_ of this on my own.”

“I’ll put in my two weeks if you get started on this ASAP. Talk to Debby, too. From what I hear, she’s not getting paid enough for what she usually does.”

“Deb’s gonna take some finagling to win over, but I’ll do it. I’m good with Photoshop, so I can handle that on my own for a while, but eventually I’m gonna need to hire someone for  _that_ too. Fuck. This shit is hard.”

“It is, but hey, you’ve at least got a spectacular accountant on your side, and you’ve got Tyler too. And Pete. Pete majored in business administration, so I’m sure he’d be more than willing to work for you. For the right price, of course.”

Josh rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Patrick. I mean it.”

Patrick pats Josh on the back. “Don’t sweat it. I really respect that you’re getting your shit together, and I’ve dealt with my own shit, so not only do I get it, but I also fully support you.”

Josh gives Patrick a hug, and although sort of shocked, Patrick returns it. Once he pulls away and dusts himself off out of habit, he changes the subject a bit. “You wanna hear somethin’ sort of cool…?”

“What is it?”

“The seventeenth marks six months that I’ve been clean.”

“Dude!” Patrick grins ecstatically. “That’s amazing. Way more than  _sort of_ cool. I’m not as impressive, but I’m going on three months soon.”

“That’s still good, though. I used to think it was dumb to want to get clean, but, Christ, I feel really good now.”

Patrick nods. “I’ve noticed you’ve quit being as much of a dick.”

“I don’t get much out of it. I’ve been trying to be nicer.”

Patrick nods again, and goes to say something, but Tyler walks back into the apartment, so he cuts himself off. He watches as Josh peers into the kitchen from his spot at his desk, and he wants to laugh, out of shock, at the  _look_ on his face. He looks so  _fond_ and infatuated, and when Tyler walks over with a cup from McDonald’s that looks like a smoothie, Josh smiles.  _Smiles._

He used to  _never_ smile, and it’s weird to see him look like that, but Patrick isn’t about to complain.  
  
Meanwhile, Josh’s heart flutters just a little bit as he takes the smoothie from Tyler, since the boy says, “Saw a McDonald’s, so I figured I’d stop since I know you like the smoothies,” before pecking him on the forehead.

\---

While Tyler’s in the middle of making enough chicken alfredo for him to live off of leftovers for at least four days, his phone buzzes with a text message. The name  _Dallon_ flashes across the tiny screen on the front of his phone, and he debates on whether or not to reply, before remembering that he had to let the chicken simmer for a while anyways.

 

 **Dallon:** Heyyy are you busy

 **Tyler:** cooking dinner but otherwise no

 **Tyler:** patricks over & going over some stuff w josh

 **Dallon:** Willing to make enough for four?

 **Tyler:** i have enough for a family of ten.

 **Dallon:** Mind if I drop by? I’ll explain when I get there.

 **Tyler:** i dont mind! ill see u in a few

  
He places his phone back onto the counter afterward, and starts making the sauce. Tyler has to shoo Josh and Patrick off while it all cools, and since he wants to wait for Dallon in the first place.

\---

Josh forces everyone to sit at the dining table, since he didn’t trust anyone not to spill if they all ate in the living room. He feels weird, seeing his dining table _full_ for once. Usually it’s just him, or him and Tyler, but it’s just--it’s full with the addition of Patrick and Dallon.

“Am I allowed to complain at the dinner table?” Dallon asks around a mouthful of the alfredo.

Tyler tells him to feel free to complain, so, of course, Dallon gets started.

“By a raise of hands, who all here knows that I used to be a heroin addict when I was younger?”

Tyler and Josh raise their hands, but Patrick doesn’t. Dallon gives him a quick rundown of all that’d happened before he gets on with it.

“Okay, so, after the party Pete threw for Tyler, Brendon crawled up my ass since I was talking to Josh, and since he apparently expected me to write him off as dead.”

Josh sighs loudly and rolls his eyes at the mention of  _Brendon._

“He was pissing and moaning, complaining about Josh, and I’m not going to repeat what he said for the most part, but he did say, and I quote, ‘Addicts can’t get it together.’”

Tyler mutters, “Fucker,” under his breath.

“I will not argue with you. Mind all of you, he didn’t know about  _my_ situation, and,  _boy_ , the  _look_ of mortification on his face when I told him I’d been clean for nine years and ten months.”

“I would literally pay you just to see it,” Josh says.

“I’d gladly accept the offer if it were possible. Anyways, I told him off, then left and slept on my mom’s couch that night.  _Since then,_ he’s been kissing my ass, and we got into it today.”

Tyler visibly cringes. “If he weren’t your boyfriend, I’d so be ragging on him right now.”

Dallon huffs and shakes his head. “How about the rest of you? How are you all doing?”

“Tired from school since finals were last week, but otherwise fine,” Tyler says, being the first to reply.  
  
“Busy,” is all Josh says, and Patrick just shrugs, muttering something about an eating disorder and NA.

\---

On January 17th, Tyler decides to wake Josh up with breakfast not actually in bed, but he does nudge him awake to inform him that he’d cooked Josh his favorite breakfast food.

The meal consists of two chocolate chip pancakes, topped with chocolate syrup and whipped cream, then a side of scrambled eggs, slightly overcooked with a dash of pepper. There’s another plate next to the pancakes with bacon, sausage, and what Josh is pretty sure is some fried zucchini. Which is one of his favorite things ever. And, last but not least, there’s a glass of orange juice, filled to the perfect amount.

“Okay, Tyler,” the man starts as he sits down. “What did you do?”

“It’s the seventeenth, J. I’ve been up cooking for, like, two hours, so you best eat all of it. Or most.”

While Josh eats, Tyler goes about warming up leftover ravioli for himself, which doesn’t take more than five minutes. When Tyler sits down across from Josh, he finds the older of the two reaching across the table to squeeze Tyler’s hand. He only says, “Thanks,” and although one would assume he meant for the breakfast, Tyler knows full well that Josh meant for everything.

Tyler blows off his classes that day too, and manages to talk Josh into going on a walk with him. It’s cold, given it’s the middle of January in Ohio, and Tyler has to wear three jackets, a hat, a scarf, and a pair of Josh’s gloves as to not freeze. Josh, being  _not_ underweight, can get away with only wearing a heavy jacket, gloves, and a hat.

“Where are we going?”

Tyler shrugs. “Dunno yet. I like exploring. I was thinking about getting something for lunch and walking to that one park to eat.”

“Too cold to eat outside.”

“Aw, c’mon, Josh,” Tyler pouts and throws his arms over Josh’s shoulders. Instinctively, Josh’s arms settle around Tyler’s waist, and Tyler almost giggles as he kisses Josh. “It’ll be romantic.”

“You literally have to wear three layers. We aren’t eating in a park, Tyler. I don’t want you getting sick or something.”

“Fine, I guess. Where should we eat?”

“The diner is the only place within walking distance that has alright food.”

Tyler makes a face, but doesn’t argue, because he’s right.

At the point in the day where they walk into the diner, it’s nearing three in the afternoon. Josh tenses up and tries pulling Tyler out of the establishment when he spots Brendon on the other side of the diner, eating with Patrick, Dallon, and Jenna.

Tyler doesn’t spare their table more than a glance before he’s turning towards Josh, and pointing at the booth closest to the door. “We can just sit here, alright? And you can sit with your back facing them. If we need to, we can leave.”

He just lets out a breath and nods. Tyler feels a little bad for Josh in a way. He was so used to him being all  _large and in charge_ for so long, but now that he’s not using or drinking, and now that he’s starting to get his shit together, he’s been so  _meek,_ and  _anxious._ Tyler hates seeing him anxious, mostly since he’s protective.

They sit down, order their respective drinks, and Tyler starts talking, trying to get Josh to quit worrying. Tyler knows the look on Josh’s face that means he’s worrying, or in general not doing too good, and, usually, if they’re in public and Tyler spots one of his looks, him talking and trying his best to take Josh out of the situation helps immensely.

Tyler thinks part of why Josh is so anxious all the time is due to the fact he’s not using any drugs as a crutch anymore. (Tyler isn’t counting his prescription for Xanax or the antidepressant he’s on at the moment.) He notices that Josh  _is_ trying to distract himself by working on getting his own agency started and running smoothly, which is better than getting shitfaced, but Tyler still has to pull him away from his work sometimes, since the man gets frustrated easily.

“Anyways, I have to find a way to get to Cleveland next week. I got a call from a radio station that wants to interview me. I don’t think it’s an overly popular one, but I can always use the promotion.”

Josh nods along with him. “I’ve been trying to work on doing my job for you, but I’ve just…” The man sighs and puts his head in one of his hands.

“It’s fine, Josh. You’re doing it for free anyways, and you’ve done a  _lot_ for me.”

“You’ve done more for me,” He deadpans.

“And this isn’t a pissing contest of support, alright? Though, if you  _really_ want to do me a favor, you should drive me to Cleveland.”

“I’ve got a bunch of meetings next week, Tyler.” And now he looks  _guilty._

“Don’t even start with that look. Work stuff takes precedence over my stuff right now. I’ll talk to Ashley or someone else, or I’ll see if I can borrow someone’s car. Can I ask for gas money?”

Josh squints at him. “Your bank account is attached to mine. I know you can afford gas.”

“Josh, you literally have over five million in yours. I’ve got four thousand. Be a good  _partner.”_

“You’re such a little shit.” Josh smiles a little bit and shakes his head. “How much do you suppose you’ll need?”

“A few hundred, just to be safe.”

“Alright. Also, I’m about to lose a bunch of money. It ain’t cheap starting a business.”

Tyler winces. “How much money are we talking here?”

“A  _lot._ I’m not sure, but Patrick said to expect to lose about fifty to seventy five percent of my savings before things start picking up.”

“Fuck. That’s insane.”

Josh nods. “I’m hopeful that it’ll work out. If not, I’ll just retire and invest in the stock market.”

“Sounds like a good backup plan. If I ever get rich, you can ride on my coattails.”

Josh cackles a bit. “We’ll see, Tyler.”

Their meals arrive pretty shortly after that, and the two of them take a break from talking to eat. Josh barely gets half way through his sandwich and plate of friends when Brendon walks over and taps him on the shoulder. Josh jumps, obviously not expecting it, and swears around a mouthful of food.

Tyler gives Brendon a  _look_ that means he better watch his mouth. Brendon looks unsure on what he wants to say, and Josh ends up snapping at him  “What the fuck do you want?”

“Um. I was hoping you’d give me a chance to apologize for how I’ve been treating you, and in general just talk to me…?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now, alright?”

“Josh--”

“Brendon, I’m on a date right now, so fuck off. I’ll text you when I’m not busy.”

Brendon looks dejected before he stalks back over to his table. Tyler sees the dirty look Jenna throws their way, and he can see Dallon turn around to give Josh a sympathetic look before he mouths, “Sorry,” to Tyler.

Tyler ignores them, and asks Josh if he’s alright. Seemingly random bouts of anger or irritability is one of the tell-tale signs that Josh is starting to have an anxiety attack.  
  
Josh sighs and pushes his plate away from himself, muttering something about losing his appetite, and Tyler waves a waitress over to ask to have their food packaged to go. Once that’s done, Josh leaves a hundred dollar bill on the table, saying something to Tyler about not having any other bills on him.

\---

After the whole diner debacle, Tyler takes Josh by the hand, and starts walking again. Josh lets the twenty year old drag him along, not really having it in him to argue with him. He doesn’t really even have a reason to argue in the first place, but he knows that, in the past, he would’ve been griping and blowing Tyler off.

It’s weird to Josh how much being  _clean_ has affected him emotionally. On one hand, he hates that he suddenly  _feels_ all of the anxiety and the depression, but on the other, he’s secretly glad that he’s letting himself experience his relationship with Tyler and his friendships with Pete, Debby, and more recently Dallon and Patrick.

Specifically Tyler, though. He used to be vaguely annoyed at Tyler most of the time, since the boy is assertive and stubborn, but recently he’s grown both accustomed to it and grateful for him. He’s done so much more for Josh than he’ll ever even  _know,_ and Josh will literally never be able to articulate, in words, what it all means to him.

Mostly, he’s just realizing how much he actually cares about Tyler, and he’s, finally, letting himself fall in love for the first time in his life. He’s still too emotionally constipated to confess that to Tyler, at least on purpose, but he tries expressing it with kind gestures, affection, and, obviously, through sex. Clean, depressed, and anxious or not, he still has the sex drive of a pubescent fourteen year old.

Being in love is weird for Josh. He was always too scared to do it, since he’s had so many horrible experiences with opening up to people, but Tyler is just so… _accepting._ He didn’t push Josh away, and he didn’t judge him when he’d finally admitted that he had a problem.

Instead of reacting with sarcasm or anger like Brendon did, he literally did his research and found an NA group, which, by the way, is  _really_ accepting and not at all judgmental (unlike some of the past ones he’s gone to), and even called the counselor for said group to make sure it was a good place for him.

Tyler makes him nervous as hell too sometimes. Josh, not once in his fucking life, has  _ever_ gotten that butterflies in his stomach and heart racing so fast over someone, but sometimes Tyler will just look at him with his dumb hazel-brown-green eyes and his stupid grin with his crooked teeth that are somehow adorable and so,  _so_ endearing, not to mention his fucking freckles that get way more obvious in the summer, and he just gets that feeling.

For the most part, though, he just feels calm and comfortable and even safe. He likes that Tyler can just simply place his hands on Josh’s shoulders, or crawl into his lap, or kiss him on the cheek, and just make him calm down, almost no matter how stressed or upset he is.

And, honestly, it’s not until Tyler suddenly stops walk and tightens his grip on Josh’s hand that Josh realizes he accidentally said, out loud, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Tyler’s frozen to his spot, trying to process what Josh had just fucking said to him after nearly  _three years_ of being together, and Josh tries backtracking, saying, “Fuck--I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” but Tyler just cuts him off with possibly the clumsiest and poorly executed kiss ever, gripping the lapels on Josh’s wool coat  _very tightly_ in his small hands.

Tyler pulls away and refuses to make eye contact with Josh, and he knows Josh is staring at him with his  _very rare_ shocked looks. Like, the wide eyes and mouth slightly open one, and Tyler is burning up under it, even as he says, “You’re such an asshole.”

“I… I just told you that I’m in love with you, and you’re calling me an asshole.”  
  
“Oh, just shut up,” Tyler says with a smile and a giggle before he kisses Josh again, and whispering, “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you too.”

\---

They pretty much  _race_ back to the apartment, and as soon as they're inside, Tyler is basically dragging Josh to the bedroom, and Josh is more than happy to follow him. They're almost frantically peeling their clothes off, aside from their underwear, as they clumsily kiss while trying to get onto the bed, with Tyler in the position he usually starts off with, straddling Josh's thighs, and Josh leaning against the headboard, gripping Tyler's hair, and his hip just about as tight as he can. (Not actually that tight, since Josh possesses a lot more strength than he lets on, but enough to hurt just a tiny bit. Not in the bad way, though. He'd never intentionally hurt Tyler, and he usually tears up a little bit when he does on accident. He knows that Tyler kind of likes it when he's rough with him, though, and he's experienced in the art of rough sex.)

Josh is really surprised that he dropped the L-bomb on Tyler, especially since he's never explicitly said it before. Sure, he's implied it, mostly on the rare occasion he'd let a, "You too," slip after Tyler tells him he loves him, or after he nods when someone calls him out on his shit when he insists he  _doesn't_ love Tyler. He will forever wonder how Tyler has so much patience with him, and he will forever reiterate this in his head, over and over, until he figures it out.

Josh ends up taking his time with Tyler, takes the time to caress him, and run his hands up and down Tyler's body, and Tyler returns he sentiment. As an offhand comment at some point when Tyler is between his legs, sucking him off, mostly to get him hard, he says, "You got a bump on one of your balls," before going back to his previous activities.

Josh just breathily says, "It's probably an ingrown hair, but I'll get it checked out," before letting himself get lost in all of the sensations.


	3. Part III

  ** _Part III_**

**_Also, as far as updates to the fic go, I'm going to stick with ~5k word updates, then I'll just... combine them every time I finish an arc or whatever._ **

**_Chapters 23-33_ **

**_Word Count: ~32,400_ **

\---

Josh schedules an appointment with a doctor a few days after Tyler points out the _lump._ He doesn't say anything to anyone, in good old _Josh Dun Fashion,_ mostly because he just doesn't want to until he figures out exactly _what_ the lump is. He's anxious throughout the whole appointment, and, long story best kept short, he has an MRI scan done, plus a few blood tests, and ends up getting referred to an oncologist in Maryland, since whoever it is is a _good one,_ and since Josh won't settle for anything but the best, especially when it comes to his healthcare.

When he goes home that evening, he lays in bed for a few hours, and Tyler doesn't question him or disturb him, figuring he just had a bad day, which is true, actually. Josh has had an absolutely terrible day. He just found out that he probably has cancer. He just doesn't mention that last part to Tyler, because he just wants some time before everyone starts worrying about him.

Tyler does lay with him that evening, though, after Josh kind of indirectly and silently asks him to. (Tyler had stepped into the room to at least ask if he was alright, and Josh had made a motion with his hand that meant, _"Come here,"_ so Tyler had just... listened.) He only gets up a few times to use the bathroom and to make dinner for himself, and Josh, and long enough to force Josh to change into pajamas. Josh loves Tyler, so much, especially right now when his presence next to him is so _solid_ and _warm_ and _comforting,_ and he just realizes how much Tyler _cares_ about him.

\---

The appointment with the oncologist is scheduled for the following Monday, meaning Josh cancels all of his meetings for that week. Tyler corners him while he's packing a suitcase with a months worth of clothes, especially after noticing most of Josh's outfits were either casual, or pajamas. Josh does pack a few suits just to make it seem like he's not preparing for a possible _surgery_ that he'd been warned about since he, still, doesn't want Tyler to know. He still just wants to be treated like a normal person.

"Why are you packing your suitcase?" Tyler asks, his arms crossed over his chest as he pulls his usual move of leaning against the door frame in their bedroom, face stern.

"Business trip," Is Josh's vague and simple answer while he mentally pats himself on the back for his ability to lie through his teeth. He doesn't look at Tyler, though, rather opting to finish packing his suitcase.

"How long are you going to be gone?" Tyler asks this before he walks over to sit on their bed, cross legged, and continuing to watch Josh pack.

"A month or so, probably. I have to go to New York, then Chicago, and Vancouver, possibly Denver." _Lie, lie, lie, and another lie. I'll be in Maryland._

"A _month?"_

"I'm starting a company, Tyler. Sometimes I have to go do big boy things."Josh can tell that Tyler doesn't actually quite believe him, but Tyler also has enough sense not to question Josh any further, since he's not going to crack.

\---

During the appointment in Maryland, and after an examination, the oncologist gets straight to the point, thankfully. Josh appreciates that the guy isn't beating around the bush with this. (Or... depending on how you look at it, maybe he _is_ beating around the bush.)

"We need to do a biopsy on the tumor, just to make _sure_ that it's cancerous. The only con of that is that you're going to lose that testicle." Josh cringes a tiny bit at that. "We have prosthetics, of course, and they look and feel like the real thing. Obviously they aren't the exact same, but, aesthetically, it will _look_ the same."

Josh just... nods. "And if I don't have the surgery?" He lets out an anxious sigh after asking this, and lets his head tilt back until he's staring at the ceiling.

"On the off chance that it's cancerous, it will most likely metastasize, or spread, and, ultimately, you _won't_ survive it."

"I guess that's settled then." Josh huffs a bit. He adjusts his posture until he's sitting up straight, and does his best to put on his businessman facade.

The oncologist smiles a little sadly. "If you'd like... I do have _some_ prosthetics in this office that you could look at."

Josh nods, saying that it sounds like a good idea, and ends up picking out the one that looks most similar to the original before scheduling the surgery, which is set to happen the day after Tyler's radio interview.

\---

Josh sits in his car in the hotel parking lot, listening to the radio, waiting for Tyler's _interview._ He's scared out of his fucking mind, that's a given, and he's had at _least_ four panic attacks since the appointment with the oncologist. Hearing Tyler's voice on the radio, though, brings him at least a little peace of mind. Once the interview is over, though, he ends up taking the time to call Tyler on the phone, because despite being somewhat soothed by his partner's voice, he still ends up working himself up.

Josh hates having panic attacks. (Who doesn't, though?) They take so much out of him, even if Tyler's a fucking saint. It really helps, talking to Tyler, because he's basically a pro at talking people down. Hell, Josh things that if he weren't a musician, he could totally be the guy who could talk people off of bridges and high rises.

 _"Hey, man, you need to breathe, alright?"_ Josh can imagine that Tyler's standing somewhere, alone, twirling a lock of his hair between two of his fingers like he usually does when he's thinking, or when he's anxious or worried. _"Oxygen is pretty essential to being calm."_

It takes ten minutes or so for Josh to be physically calm, and Tyler tries his damnedest to get Josh to explain what's going on, but he won't budge, won't _tell_ him, and Josh can tell that Tyler's miffed over it, but the younger man just focuses on making sure he's calm, and making sure he takes care of himself.

\---

Josh stays in a hospital for a week before he's allowed to leave. He learns that within that time, he _hates_ staying in hospitals. There's been a few times he's stayed for a day or two in the past, but staying for a _week_ was almost torture. The food sucked, and the nurses just would _not_ quit hovering. After his little one week stint in the hospital, he coops up in his hotel room for a few more weeks, recovering, and trying to somehow cope, _alone,_ after finding that he does, indeed, have testicular cancer. He gets a prescription for Vicodin to deal with the pain, and although he _hates_ the idea of taking an opioid, he'd prefer to do that rather than be in excruciating pain.

Once home, Josh manages to act like he _isn't_ in a ridiculous amount of pain, managing to get Tyler to believe that he just has a particularly bad cold, and getting him to believe him when he says he's _fine_ for the two or three weeks that he spends sleeping and forcing himself to sit on the couch watching reruns of early 90's sitcoms.

After those six weeks of _recovery,_ Josh talks to his endocrinologist, the one he saw before going to fucking _Maryland,_ so he can schedule appointments for radiation therapy. He's set to go every other day for another six weeks before finding out whether or not he's in remission.

\---

Josh dozes off at the first therapy session, and gets woken up by a nurse gently nudging him in the shoulder, saying, "You're done for the day, Mister Dun," with a small smile on her face once Josh's eyes blink open. Josh grunts, and scrubs his eyes for about half a minute before sitting up, nodding along as the nurse continues to speak.

"You'll probably feel fine the rest of the morning, but around noon or so, you'll probably hit a wall. Nausea and fatigue are both _very_ common side effects, and don't be surprised if you're a little feverish. I'd suggest taking it easy, and trying to eat and sleep if you can."

The nurse leaves the room after Josh signals that he heard her, giving him some privacy while he's putting his jacket, t-shirt, and sweatpants back on. He grabs his keys, his wallet, and his phone from where he left them, and stuffs only his phone into his pocket before limping a little bit down the hallway towards the front desk. Once he's paid for that appointment in full, he drives home.

Of _course,_ Tyler's home--this just _has_ to be the one day he decides to skip out on his classes, but luckily, he's asleep on the couch. Josh manages to sneak past him, but, _unluckily,_ once he steps into his bedroom, he trips over a pair of his own shoes, effectively sending him to the floor, and causing him to yelp and swear pretty loudly. _That's_ what wakes Tyler up.

Tyler's too sleepy to question Josh too much, aside from an, "Are you alright?" as he helps him up, and before he's crawling into bed next to him. Tyler ends up being the big spoon, which really isn't a common occurrence, and dozes off again. Josh falls asleep as well for a few hours, but around one, he's pretty much flying out of the bed and towards the en suite as fast as he can to vomit. (Out of the very short list of things that _will_ wake Josh up immediately, needing to vomit is one of those things.)

This is when Tyler decides to question him. He doesn't question him while Josh is in the actual act of vomiting, but once Josh hits a lull in the dry heaving, he just bluntly asks, "Are you using again? You threw up a lot when you were going through withdrawals."

Josh shakes his head, and holds up his finger as he heaves. Again. His voice is shaky, strained, and just sounds like shit when he says, "No, and I don't want to talk about it right now. Later, alright?"

Tyler confused, very confused, but he trusts Josh to tell him, and doesn't ask him anything else, aside from, "Do you need any, uh... help?"

Josh gives him a bit of a miserable look, one that means he wants to say no, but he knows Tyler's going to coddle him at least a little bit, so he just says, "Yeah," in a weak and defeated tone.

Tyler kisses Josh's bare shoulder at that, and wraps his arms around the man's torso. "Do you think you could brush your teeth and use some mouthwash...?"

"When I'm done," is all he says as he holds his finger up and heaves yet again.

\---

Josh spends another ten minutes in the bathroom dry heaving, and Tyler just stays with him, patiently sitting next to him, rubbing his back and trying to comfort him before he helps him stand up once Josh deems himself fit enough to leave the bathroom. Tyler walks him over to the sink, and ends up having to squeeze toothpaste onto the brush for him before handing it to him. While Josh is brushing his teeth, Tyler fills a Dixie cup with water, and sits it on the counter, so Josh can rinse his mouth out after brushing.

Tyler lets Josh use him to balance as he leads him back towards the bedroom, and once he's lying on his back on the bed, arm over his eyes, Tyler asks, "Do you want me to make you some soup or something...?"

Josh nods, mumbling, "Yeah."

"What kind would you like?"

"The chicken noodle one you make with the good noodles, if it's not too much to ask."

And now Tyler's _frowning,_ because Josh _never_ asks him to cook for him like that. Usually he just tells him to pick something and give it to him-- _rarely_ does he ask for anything specific. Tyler thinks that the last time Josh asked him for something specific like that was last year and he was in full tilt withdrawals. This is worse than that, though. Tyler can already tell. "I can make it with the good noodles. It's not too much trouble."

Josh nods, and Tyler leaves after kissing him on the cheek. He keeps a frown on his face as he walks down the hallway and to the kitchen, and as he's pulling out the good noodles, the ones that Josh _really_ likes, along with a can of chicken broth, and leftover rotisserie chicken that he'd eaten, like, half of the previous day. He finds some celery, too, and chops that up, knowing Josh likes celery in his soup.

He struggles with their can opener for about a minute before managing to get the can open, and while he's waiting for water and brother to boil, he hears the answering machine go off, which causes him to head towards their living room and to Josh's desk to listen to the message.

As the message goes on, Tyler grows more and more mortified, and once it's finished, he's speed walking back towards the bedroom, praying that the family that lives below them doesn't file a noise complaint, since he doesn't bother to keep his feet light on the floor. (The family that lives below them is a nice family, and Tyler feels bad whenever he and Josh get too loud.) Tyler stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips, saying, _"Joshua,_ sit up and _look at me,"_ in a raised voice, tone stern, and not leaving any room for argument.

Josh obeys, albeit slowly and tiredly. "Is something wrong...?"

"Yeah, _actually._ An _oncologist_ from Johns Hopkins in _Baltimore_ just called, wanting to schedule a post-surgery follow-up appointment. Any reason why _that_ might be?" Tyler knows a bit about oncology, partially from his mother, partially from what little Josh told him about his father, and partially from his own grandfather, who had lung cancer when Tyler himself was just a kid. Tyler's also not an idiot, and he has a pretty good idea of what's happening. He just wants Josh to say it.

Josh... sighs, and deflates pretty much. The look he gives Tyler is another defeated _I don't have anything to say for myself_ looks. He seems to think, possibly thinking about how to break the news to Tyler, before settling on, "I have testicular cancer. I don't know if it's hereditary or if it's some freak thing or something I did, but my first radiation session was earlier this morning. The next one is the day after tomorrow." His expression doesn't really change.

Tyler's first instinct is to, literally, _scream_ at him and ask him why he didn't say anything, but he doesn't do that. He thinks first. Anger isn't the first thing he needs to react with. Josh doesn't need Tyler being angry with him, least of all about this, since it's not his fault in the slightest. What Josh needs, Tyler figures, is for him to be his support system, rather than a scared romantic partner. He asks, "Why didn't you tell me?" quieter than he intended. "Am I just--am I not allowed to know?"

Josh shakes his head immediately, and groans softly. "Tyler, don't start. It's not that deep. I just... I wanted to wait until I knew for sure, and I wanted a few more days of everything being normal before I said something. Could you... could you just... go finish the soup...? I'm hungry and my doctor told me I should try eating."

Tyler asks one more question. "Does anyone else know?"

Josh shakes his head. "I'd prefer if they didn't. Not yet."

"Loose lips sink ships, yeah? I'll, uh, go finish that soup."

\---

Tyler's ears are ringing it's all he can do just to stare into the boiling soup, heart sinking into his stomach, throat closing up. He allows himself to cry a little bit as he finishes the soup, but they're dry and he's composed by the time he's setting the pot of chicken noodle soup on a potholder on the counter to cool for a bit. While it's cooling, he grabs a can of Sprite from the fridge, opens it, then pours it into a glass with fake ice cubes.

He brings the glass of soda back to the bedroom, and he feels a little guilty about waking Josh up. Josh gives him a confused look, blinking blearily. "I brought Sprite. It'll help settle your stomach. The, uh, soup's done, but I'm letting it cool for a bit so you don't scald yourself."

"What kind of noodles did you use?" Josh asks as he sits up, yawning. He takes a sip of the sprite while Tyler answers him.

"A mixture of shells, bowtie, and fettuccine, plus the good ones, since there wasn't enough of the good ones. I put actual chicken, the good kind, in it, and celery since you like celery. The, uh, broth might give you heartburn, but I tasted it, and it's pretty great."

Josh nods, and smiles a little bit. "I like when you cook things," he comments, quietly. "You're good at cooking."

Tyler shrugs. "We both need to eat, so I figure it's not too much trouble to make food for both of us. Anyways, uh, I'm going to go get some soup for you, alright?"

Josh nods again and thanks him, and Tyler kisses him on the forehead before leaving the room again.

Once he's back, with two bowls of soup, one for himself and one for Josh, and once they're both comfortable and actually eating, Josh taking his time since he's still a little nauseous, and Tyler eating at his normal pace, Josh starts talking. "I need to talk to Debby and Jenna. I didn't know cancer was even a thing in my family when I agreed to be their sperm donor, and I figure they should keep an eye on Nathan just in case."

"That's probably a good idea. Do you want me to go with you when you tell them?"

"My pride wants me to say no, but I'm pretty certain I can't drive if I'm feeling this terrible." Josh stares into his soup, eyes looking dead, as he stirs it with his spoon, occasionally scooping up bits of it to eat.

"You don't have to do it today, man. We can wait until you feel better."

Josh shakes his head. "I didn't mean today. Maybe this weekend or next week. I have this shit every other day."

"That's... a lot."

"It's necessary, I guess." He shrugs, and they sit in silence for a few more minutes before Josh admits, "I'm so fucking scared."

"You're allowed to be scared. I'm pretty fucking scared myself."

"I'm sorry about this. Fuck." Josh curls in on himself a bit with his palms against his eyes, and takes a deep breath. "I get it if you don't want to deal with this shit."

Tyler glares at him, and reaches forward to pinch him in the bicep. "Shut your mouth. I've been with you for like two years, and we even promised each other not to dip the second things got real. I know I'm not perfect, but I'm not going to fucking _leave_ you over this."

"I could die," He mumbles.

"And? I'm still not leaving you over this. I didn't leave you when you quit using, and, hell, I nursed you through your withdrawals. It'd take a lot more than stupid _cancer_ to get me to leave you. I mean, I need a few days to process this and all, but _still."_

"Can we talk about something else?"

Tyler huffs a bit and sighs, but says, "Yes, of course," nonetheless.

"Backtracking to the food stuff. I _really_ like when you cook stuff. Before we met, I didn't really keep any food around here, since it'd just end up going bad whenever I did, but you actually use groceries and make awesome meals, and you've given me, like, a whole new appreciation for homemade food."

"I like having meals, and I kind of, like, noticed that you weren't eating a whole lot in the first place. I just... Personally, I feel better knowing you've eaten and that you're being taken care of properly."

"God, it should be _me_ worrying about _you._ This is so fucked up."

"Our entire relationship is fucked up. This isn't that bad, if at all. Anyways, listen, I have every right to be worried about you right now. If I don't, then who will?" Tyler says the last interrogative sentence playfully, and nudges Josh in the shoulder a little bit.

He doesn't even chuckle or crack a grin like he usually would, just opting to respond with, "Probably no one. Not very many people care about me."

"Hey, you quit that, Josh. That is _not_ true. I care, Debby cares, Dallon sure as hell cares, as do Pete and Patrick, and I'm going to go out on a limb here, but I think Brendon would care a helluva lot too if you told him. He was your best friend for seventeen years. Hell, I'm sure even my dad would care, and I _know_ Ashley would, since she's that kind of person."

Josh shrugs, then hands Tyler his mostly finished bowl of soup. "I'm gonna try napping some more."

"Alright. I'm gonna try to work on homework and maybe some lyrics if I can."

\---

Tyler drives Josh over to the Ryan-Black household the Saturday following Josh's first appointment, and after Tyler had found out about what had been going on with Josh in the first place. Josh, being generally exhausted from both stress and radiation, sleeps in the car on the way.

Tyler takes Josh's hand in his own once they've reached their destination, and squeezes it gently, softly saying his name in an attempt tot wake him up.

Josh does wake up for once. His head snaps up and towards Tyler, and he blinks a few times, looking just a little confused.

Tyler smiles at him and says, "We're here."

Josh grunts a little, and has to wait for Tyler to be around on the other side of the car to help him stand up. All of his muscles ache, as if he's been asleep for an eon or two, and he's so goddamn fatigued. If he had to describe how he feels, he'd say he feels as if he has a  _really_ bad cold that  _will not_ go away. He also kind of wants to be annoyed at Tyler for coddling him, but, admittedly, he kind of needs to be coddled. He is annoyed, though, at the fact that it's been barely a week since he started radiation and he's already too achy to walk without holding onto Tyler's shoulder, and that he already looks sick enough to where Debby's giving him a  _really_ worried look when she answers her door.

Tyler smiles awkwardly at her, and she has enough sense not to say anything as she steps aside to invite them in. Tyler sort of helps Josh get settled on their couch before he sits next to him. (By 'sort of helps' he means that he keeps a hand on Josh's arm as the man sits.) Jenna steps into the room, and looks at them curiously, probably wondering why the hell Josh and Tyler are in her house when neither of them speak to her on their own more than once every month or two.

Josh explains himself, vaguely, saying, "We need to have a talk." Debby takes that as a cue to nudge one of the arm chairs in the room to where it's facing the couch more, and Jenna follows suit.

Debby, in all of her motherly glory, thanks to, y'know, being a mother, immediately asks, "Someting's wrong, isn't it?" Her expression is growing more and more worried by the second.

Josh doesn't beat around the bush, not that he'd want to in the first place. "I have testicular cancer. I just... I figured you guys should at least know, given that I didn't really know that cancer was a thing in my family. I figure that Nathan has some predisposition to it, and that, perhaps, a little more attention should be paid to him just in case."

Jenna audibly winces, letting out a slight hissing noise. "How long have you known?" She looks more concerned about Josh than she ever has before, which catches everyone in the room by surprise.

"Not more than a few months. Um. It was caught early, so my... outlook is looking pretty good. I'm just, uh, kind of sick right now from radiation, and I... There was a small tumor on one of my testicles, and to do a biopsy on that, I had to have a surgery and ended up  _losing_ that testicle, so I'm still recovering from that, plus radiation on top of it, so, uh, y'know." Josh shrugs and looks down at his hands, which are clasped together.

Tyler's rubbing his back, gently, and the next thing Josh knows, he's being hugged by all three of them.

\---

When Josh's alarm goes off a few days after his talk with Debby and Jenna about his current situation, he wakes Tyler up too. He's feeling  _awful,_ and can't really even stand up without wanting to hurl, which means that he probably shouldn't drive. Tyler groans and fusses a bit from being woken up, but doesn't complain or say anything, especially after Josh says, "I need you to drive me to my appointment. Too sick to do it myself."

Tyler's quick about waking himself up after that, and after he takes a quick shower, with Josh, he makes toast for him and makes him eat either piece before they leave, saying, "It's better to throw up something rather than nothing."

Josh nods, because he agrees.

\---

Tyler drives with one hand on the wheel, and the other hand held out to Josh, who links his fingers with Tyler's, who only removes his hand from Josh's grip whenever he needs to shift gears in the car. When Tyler pulls into a parking space at the hospital, Josh's saying, "It's going to take awhile. You, uh, can leave if you want."

"Can I stay?" Tyler isn't sure if Josh is hinting at him, trying to get him to leave, so he figures he should just ask rather than making a decision that could potentially make Josh uncomfortable.

"If you want, you can. You can't, like, be in the room with me, I don't think, though, but you can probably sit in the waiting room or something."

Tyler leans over and kisses his cheek. "I'll sit outside of the door or something if they'll let me. I don't care how long I'm there."

Josh leans over the console to hug Tyler, wrapping his arms around his torso, and Tyler hugs back, kissing the side of his neck before Josh asks, "Is this a bad time to say that I love you?"

Tyler grins a little sadly, because he's pretty sure this is, like, maybe the third time Josh has ever said that to him, and he wishes that their situation wasn't like this so he could be more excited about it. "It's never a bad time to tell me that."

\---

Tyler trails behind Josh and a doctor as they're being led down a corridor. His stomach is churning and twisting itself into knots from anxiety, and his hands, which are shaking a tiny bit, are growing cold. He was fine when he initially arrived at the hospital, but while he was sitting as Josh was having his vitals checked, he, somehow, managed to work himself up. Once the doctor enters a room with Josh, Tyler slides down the wall on the outside of the door, sitting there cross-legged, meditating, basically, at least up until there's a nurse tapping on his shoulder and pulling him out of his meditative state, asking, "Are you Mr. Dun's partner?" Her voice is fake-sympathetic in the way that doctors and nurses usually sound.

Tyler nods, confirming that, and standing up as he verbally says so.

She smiles a little bit, and rattles off a list of side effects that happen to accompany radiation therapy. "--nausea and fatigue are totally normal, and don't be surprise if he's a little feverish or achy. Do call, though, if the fever gets dangerous, and try to make sure he gets some rest, food, and water."

Tyler nods. "He filled me in, yeah." He shrugs, and sighs, before continuing. "I'll make sure he eats. Don't worry."

The nurse acknowledges that she heard him, and doesn't verbally respond before slipping into the room that Josh is in. She leaves shortly after, and Josh exits a few minutes later, looking even more exhausted than he had before. Josh limps a little bit and has to hold onto Tyler's shoulder for balance as they make their way to the front desk so Josh can pay and leave.

\---

Josh manages not to throw up that day, but he's  _weepy,_ and he cries out of frustration more than a few times. His muscles ache and he's so  _tired_ and gets frustrated over not even having the strength to carry his blanket from his bedroom to the couch in the living room, so he can be warm while he watches TV. Tyler does it for him, of course, and shushes him when he expresses his embarrassment.

Josh wraps himself in his blanket, and lays with his head in Tyler's lap. Tyler runs his fingers through his partner's hair, whispering things along the lines of, "I love you," or, "You're going to be alright, I promise," every so often. Josh ends up falling asleep, and Tyler turns the volume on the TV down as to not disturb him.

Tyler has to wake him up eventually, though, and he feels absolutely awful about it. Josh blinks up at him groggily, looking just as miserable as he had before falling asleep. "You need to eat something. What are you in the mood for?"

"The sweet release of death," he mumbles quietly.

Tyler rolls his eyes at him. "You are  _not_ dying on me."

Josh grunts. "I kind of want a hamburger. I'll probably throw it up, but it's what I want."

"Do you want me to walk to the diner to get you one?"

Josh shakes his head. "No. I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone." He's scared shitless, obviously, and Tyler  _really_ wishes this situation wasn't happening to him. He wishes he could just wave some magic wand and suddenly make Josh completely better. To Tyler, at least, Josh, of all people, doesn't deserve having something like this happen to him.

Tyler ends up letting a few tears loose, but manages to stop himself after Josh tells him to knock it off before he gets himself too worked up. "Ugh. You're right, you're right. Do you want me to call someone...?"

"Call Dallon. He's the only one I have the patience to deal with, I think," Josh answers.

"What if he tells Brendon?"

"Tyler, he's my NA sponsor. He's not going to tell anyone, least of all Brendon. He also promised not to say anything to him anyways were I to ever go to him with a problem."

"Oh. Can I get up long enough to go get my phone, then...?"

Josh nods, and sits up a little bit to allow Tyler to get up, and he requests that Tyler brings him a few pillows when he comes back.

Tyler stands in the bedroom for a few minutes, giving himself time to process, before he's grabbing his phone from the bedside table, where it was charging, and going through his contacts, pressing the call button when he finds Dallon's number. (Which doesn't take long, since Tyler doesn't have a lot of contacts, and since Dallon's name starts with a 'd.') It rings exactly three times before there's an answer. It sounds like he's busy, or Tyler assumes, since he can hear a bunch of voices in the background when he's saying,  _"Yeah?"_ in a slightly raised voice.

Tyler exhales heavily before replying to him. "Are you busy?"

_"Uh. Not really. I'm just getting out of an NA meeting. Why?"_

"I, uh... have a bit of a situation going on, and I need you to do a favor for me, but you have to swear on your mother  _and_ a bible that you won't say anything to anyone when you find out what's happening."

 _"Yeah, of course. Don't worry about it. What do you need?"_ Tyler hears the bell in his car going off, presumably from him opening the door to get in.

"Um. I need you to buy a hamburger, and I'm not talking about the shitty one dollar ones from McDonald's either, or one of the hockey pucks from the diner. I mean full on cheese, onion, lettuce, tomato, mayo,  _and_ ketchup. No mustard, though."

_"That's... rather specific, Tyler."_

"Please? I'd do it, but I can't right now. I'll pay you back."

_"Don't worry about paying me back--I'll do it, man. Are you alright?"_

"I'm fine. Just, um... Feel free to walk in whenever you get here."

\---

Tyler grabs Josh's pillow from the bed, and under any other circumstances he would've awwed at him when he pulled his blanket up to his chin and asked Tyler to spoon him. Tyler definitely isn't about to deny Josh a single thing right now, so he holds onto him and kisses the back of his neck once in awhile.

"Is he coming?" Josh asks, voice sort of muffled from where he has part of his face stuffed into his pillow.

"He is. I, uh, kind of just told him to walk in, by the way, so keep your pants on. No funny business."

Josh huffs and Tyler can picture him rolling his eyes. "I really wish I could have sex right now.  _God,_ I'm going to have  _such_ a terrible case of blue balls. Or blue ball, now that I think about it..."

Tyler giggles. "I'm glad that you're at least able to crack jokes about this."

"I might as well. I'm scared and all, but y'know."

They lie there, in silence, for a good while, and Tyler's just about asleep when he hears the apartment door opening. Josh is actually asleep, but he wakes up when Tyler's sitting up and raising his voice slightly to say, "Living room!"

Dallon doesn't waste any time walking into the room after he kicks his shoes off by the door, a habit that Tyler assumes he picked up elsewhere. He gives Josh a concerned look when he catches sight of him. "You look like shit, man. Are you alright?"

Josh huffs and shakes his head 'no,' and Tyler scoots away from him, giving him room to sit up. He holds a hand out for the bag that the hamburger is in, then hands it to Josh, and Josh waits to start eating until he's sat in a comfortable position, and until Dallon's on the floor in front of where Tyler's sitting. Dallon looks up at Tyler, saying, "You said you'd explain when I got here."

"It'd sound better coming from Josh," he mumbles. "Not really my story to tell."

Josh rolls his eyes, and holds up a finger as he's making a provocative noise around a bite of the hamburger. He swallows, and once he does that, he says, "Just go in a different room or something. I want to eat. Not talk."

Tyler gives him a squinted eyes sort of look before he's getting up, and leading Dallon to the third bedroom in the apartment, the room he uses as a studio, since it's sound proof. Tyler closes the door behind him, and sits on his piano bench with one knee pulled to his chest. Dallon, yet again, sits on the floor, grunting and muttering something about his age and his knees.

"Do you want the long version or the short version? The long version will probably take a minute and I will probably end up crying, but the short version is only one or two sentences."

"Um. Short version...?" He smiles awkwardly, and waits for Tyler to explain.

"Make me a few promises first, though."

"Of course. What are they?"

"One--you are  _not_ to tell Brendon or anyone else about anything. It's not that Josh is keeping anything from him, but he just wants to maintain as much of his privacy as possible."

"Already done. What else?"

"Two--you gotta promise not to coddle Josh, or to start pestering him, unless he specifically asks you to."

"Alright. Anything else?"

"Yes. Don't pity him. He's cranky enough as it is, and he  _will_ go off on you if you do."

"Um. Alright, yeah. What the hell's wrong with him?"

"Josh has testicular cancer and he's too sick from radiation to do basically anything for himself."

Dallon... blanks. "Um. Is it too late to ask for the long version?"

Tyler huffs, and leans back on his piano, scrubbing a hand down his face. He stares at some of the foam padding on one of the walls, and keeps his gaze there as he decides on what he wants to say, and continues to keep his gaze there as he speaks. "I was going down on him sometime in January because it was the six month mark of him being clean, and I noticed, like, a bump on one of his balls. He thought it was an ingrown hair or something, but it didn't go away."

"Jesus. Didn't his dad die from lung cancer?"

"I'm going to assume Josh told you that and that you're not some creepy stalker," Tyler mutters, breaking his staring contest with the wall. He's fidgeting, and keeps adjusting his position. This time, both of his feet are on the ground, and his hands are holding onto the edge of the piano bench.

"He told me awhile ago."

"Good. Um. Anyways. He went to a doctor a few days after that, and this is just what he's told me, because he didn't tell me  _shit_ when it was actually happening, but after  _that_ appointment, he was referred to some oncology center in Maryland. I didn't even find out until, like, almost two months after. When he was packing to leave he said it was for a fucking business trip, and I knew he was lying because he just--he does this thing--"

"He doesn't look you in the eye and he uses this, like, weird tone, right?"

"Yeah, that. Anyways, I knew he was lying, but he was also acting weird too, so I just didn't question him, because I figured if it was serious then he'd tell me eventually, and I mean, he  _did,_ but I had to find out from our fucking answering machine going off while I was making food for him a few weeks ago."

Dallon places one of his large hands on Tyler's knee, and squeezes. Tyler hasn't ever really talked to him, mostly since he's one of his professors, meaning he hasn't been on the receiving end of any sort of (platonic) affection from him. He finds it a touch odd but he doesn't question it.

"Just... The day after that one radio interview I had, he had to have some surgery so that they, they being the medical staff at that oncology center, could do a biopsy on the tumor, but to do that, he ended up losing one of his testicles apparently. I mean, the ultimatum was either that, or slowly die on the off chance it was cancerous, so the choice was obvious, I guess."

"That... sucks." Dallon grimaces and makes a face.

"Of course it does. Lo and behold, it was, in fact, cancerous, and he stayed in Maryland for the rest of the month, probably to recover enough to where he could just pass it off as a cold or something when I asked why he was limping around. He started radiation about a week and a half ago. He was throwing up, and I figured he overdosed or that it was withdrawals or something. He wasn't going to tell me, but while I was making dinner an oncologist from Johns Hopkins conveniently called about a post-surgery follow-up appointment. He's probably going to be fine, but he's scared shitless, and didn't want me to leave him, so that's why I called you." Tyler's voice cracks and wavers throughout this explanation.

"I mean... you guys caught it early, right?"

"Yeah, we did. Don't worry. It was just the one."

"I can kinda get how he feels. Emotionally, I guess."

Tyler has to wipe at his eyes before asking Dallon what he'd meant.

"The scared shitless part, I guess. When I found out I had HIV, I was really sick for awhile, and I--I could've died. It kind of gave me a mortality check. I know HIV is different from cancer, but there's still the basic concept of this  _thing_ being in you, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's thinking about his mortality. Like... I dunno. This is sort of off topic, but I myself could  _literally_ die were I to get so much as a cold at the wrong time, and I'm to the point that if I have something to say, or if I want something--I don't fuck around. Life is really short, man."

Tyler nods thoughtfully, understanding what he means. "I don't know what to do, man. I can't just--I can't fix this, and I'm--I'm a problem solver. I'm the kind of guy who  _fixes_ things, and  _I'm_ always everyone's  _rock,_ but I can't fix this."

Dallon squeezes his knee again. "I know, man, I know."

Tyler grabs his hand and squeezes it back pretty hard.

"You can't fix it, but you can be there for him, y'know? Honestly, the most you can do is offer your support. I mean... I wouldn't push him, because you know better than any of us what he's like, but still."

And this is when Tyler just lets loose and starts letting himself cry, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his palms against them. "I haven't even had time to be scared. I've been so  _busy_ taking care of Josh since I found out about this stuff and  _I've_ been so exhausted, but,  _fuck,_ god, I'm so scared. I don't--I don't wanna lose him."

 

"Do you want me to go get him...?"

Tyler nods, almost pathetically, and reluctantly lets go of Dallon's hand so the thirty three year old can leave the room and retrieve Josh.

Meanwhile, Josh is about half way through the hamburger when Dallon pats him on the shoulder. "You should go talk to Tyler. He told me and he's in there crying."

Josh grunts as he hauls himself off of his couch. He slowly works his way down the hall until he sees Tyler on his piano bench in the room he uses as a studio. He closes the door behind him, and steps over to sit next to him. Tyler has his fists balled up in his hair and has his face scrunched up a little bit. "What's wrong?"

He just shakes his head and continues to cry and hyperventilate as Josh wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer until he's pressed against his side. "You need to breathe, Tyler," he mumbles against the top of Tyler's head. "Do you want me to count with you...?"

Tyler shakes his head, and Josh listens as he starts counting up to and down from four under his breath on each inhale and exhale. He continues to hold him and shush him until his breathing has evened out a bit, and until he's admitting that he's scared.

"Wanna tell me why...?" Josh has a pretty good guess, but he figures it might do Tyler some good to talk about it.

"I love you so fucking much, way more thank you think, and I just--I'm so,  _so_ fucking afraid of losing you, because whatever we have--it's special, so special, and I know I'm barely twenty but I  _know_ that no one is ever gonna make me feel like you do, and I just--I don't want to lose that or you because you are so fucking important to me."

"Keep your chin up. I'm not goin' anywhere, sweetheart. I promise, and you know I only make promises that I'm going to keep. Anyways, listen--the cancer hadn't spread anywhere, and with radiation, I'm almost guaranteed to be fine, alright? There's only another four and a half weeks of this shit, which is... I think thirty two days. Ish. After that we find out whether or not I'm in remission. Anyways, man, I managed to kick drug addiction, so knock wood, alright?"

"This is so stupid. I wish I could just fix this. You don't deserve this crap, but there's nothing I can do, and I feel so helpless."

"It's not up to you to fix this, Tyler, and it's not stupid. You've got every right to be upset, and I'm not--I'm not expecting you to be a rock. All I request is that you give me a hug and let me cry on you once in a while."

"I--I know, but I'm so--I'm so used to fixing things--"

"Again, it's not your job to do that, alright?"

Tyler just nods, and they stay like that for what seems like forever, but is probably only maybe ten or twenty minutes.

\---

Dallon goes home after making sure both Tyler and Josh were going to be alright, and the two men, once left alone, end up just going to bed early, clinging to each other until Tyler has to get up again, since he needs to go speak with someone at his college about taking a break for the rest of this semester.

He's able to do that, thankfully, since Josh pays his tuition. At first he didn't think he was going to be  _allowed_ to take a break, but after he explains his situation, the administration at his college are sympathetic and he's allowed to take a break that semester then return the next semester.

Time goes on, and Josh starts feeling a little better, since he's starting to get used to the side effects. He still has bad days once in a while, just as anyone else would, and Tyler just offers his support, and takes care of Josh as best as he can and as much as Josh will let him. Sure, Josh has been a lot more open and affectionate, given the mortality check, but he still has his limits.

\---

Patrick is the next person to find out about the whole situation, but he doesn't find out until Josh is in the middle of his fourth week of radiation. Josh felt good enough to go look at a few office buildings, and while he's poking around the one that he's pretty sure is  _the one,_ Patrick finally gives in and asks, "Are you alright? You basically fell off the face of the earth for the past two months. Everyone's worried."

Josh spares him a quick glance before going back to looking at one of the offices they're in, making sure it's in peak condition before just saying a simple, "I'm alright."

"Are you sure? You don't  _look_ alright. You're all  _skinny,_ which is something since you've been a brick house since I've met you, and you're all pale and shit. You look like you overdosed or something."

Josh sighs, rolls his eyes, and answers him with, "It's the 'c' word," as Patrick's running a hand through his own strawberry blonde hair.

"Crystal meth?"

 _I'm rolling my eyes so hard that I can see my brain._ "No, Patrick."

"Cocaine? That was one of your usual ones."

"To reiterate: no."

"Uh... caffeine...?"

Patrick looks genuinely confused until Josh snaps at him and says, "It's  _cancer_ , you dumb fuck. Testicular cancer to be specific."

 _"Cancer?"_ He scoffs and thwacks Josh in the arm. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I did. I told Tyler, Deb, Jen, and Dallon, but only out of necessity. And now you, but only because you asked. Also, if you tell Pete or Brendon, you're fucking dead. I want to tell them on my own." Josh gives him a stern look.

"Loose lips sink ships."

"Alright then. Now, I want you to give me your opinion on this building. I, personally, like it, but you're my accountant and you're in charge of my finances basically."

\---

Josh puts in an offer on the building, and when he gets home, he just about passes out from the over exertion. Tyler's on his ass immediately, ushering him towards the couch, saying, "Quit pushing yourself, Josh," and Josh only grumbles in response to him.

If you ask Josh, he will swear up and down that Tyler is an angel, especially when Tyler's considerate enough to bring him a glass of ice water without him even having to ask. Josh doesn't thank him until it's gone, and Tyler just tells him it's not a problem. Tyler's gentle as he sits next to Josh, tucking himself into the man's side. They don't talk for a while, but, eventually, Josh runs a hand through his hair, which he'd recently gone and dyed the top of it ruby red, and the sides of it black, after saying, "Fuck it," since it was something he'd been wanting to do for a while, and now could, given he's his own boss.

Tyler can tell Josh is about to say something since he finds himself being held a little tighter and since Josh takes a few deep breaths before getting to it. "I need to talk to Brendon about all of this before someone else slips up and tells him. This--the fucking arguing and petty fighting between us--it's getting real old, real fast, and I just... Lately, I haven't had the energy to hate him, y'know?"

"Yeah, I understand that. When do you think you'd tell him?"

"I was planning on popping up at the shop on the twenty fifth."

"Your last day of radiation, for now, is on the twenty sixth of this month, right?"

"Yep. Honestly, it feels a little surreal that, since  _January,_ I've been getting treated for freaking cancer. I mean, radiation was only from the middle of March, ish, to the end of April, but I was recovering from the one surgery. I have shit to do, man."

Tyler chuckles a little bit. "Me, for example."

Aaand Josh just huffs and rolls his eyes. "No, not you. I haven't gotten the okay to have sex yet, and I haven't really been able to get it up between all the aches and pains and fatigue, not to mention all of the vomiting. If I get the okay, though, we're totally spending an entire day doing nothing but  _fucking._ I miss sex so much."

"Uh, no, we're not. You still need to rest, and sex is pretty tiring. As much as I want you to, I'm not gonna let you fuck me all day."

Josh groans. "You're no fun. When's the last time I got laid?"

"The week you came home from your 'business trip.' I went out with Pete and ended up fucking some guy in the bathroom at Vista."

"Was he any good?"

"I suppose. Had a big dick, at least, but I didn't get to, like, cum, because I'm apparently hot enough that he busted his load within a few minutes."

"That's why I'm the perfect guy to fuck. I'm hot, you're hot, and I have  _great_ stamina."

Tyler snorts. "You're not wrong."

"Two months without sex, though... That sounds like hell. It's worse for me, because I have cancer, and I haven't had sex in almost  _three_ months."

"Can't believe three months without sex is more terrifying to you than being diagnosed with testicular cancer. I can't believe you sometimes." Tyler's laughing softly, and Josh pulls him close in an attempt to hug him.

"A man's gotta have what a man's gotta have, alright? Bite me."

Tyler gently nips at his neck, and holds his arms up defensively in front of him when Josh bats at him, saying, "I didn't mean  _literally,_ you asshole!"

"Should've said something," Tyler gets out between giggles.

\---

Josh steps into Brendon's shop, named  _Urielectric Records,_ a name that pisses him off because of the pun, and his stomach drops when Brendon turns around, only managing to say half of his usual spiel of, "How may I help you?"

Brendon stares in shock, partially because he hasn't seen Josh in so long, and partially because he just looks so  _different._ For one thing, the man has red hair, and for another, he probably has about the same BMI that Tyler does, which is fucking something, considering Josh was pretty damn bulky the last time he saw him. Brendon has a fleeting thought, wondering if Josh has an eating disorder or something, but he finds that unlikely since he knows Tyler's pretty adamant on getting him to eat right.

"Uh... what... what are you doing here...?" Brendon asks with a furrowed brows kind of look.

"I'm not busy anymore," Josh says, simply, with a shrug. There's a weird look in his eye and Brendon can tell something isn't right. Well, he could tell before, but he can tell even more now.

"It's been  _three months,_ Josh."

"I know how long it's been,  _Brendon."_

"Christ, dude. You look like shit."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Josh rolls his eyes. "Do you got somewhere that we can sit? I want to talk to you but I'm kind of dizzy."

Brendon just nods and bites the inside of his cheek as he takes a moment to flip the open sign to say closed instead of open before he's leading Josh into what looks like a break room. Kind of. There's a few couches, one that Josh can tell has a fold out bed, and he can see the mattress for it folded up and leaning against the wall next to it. There's also a microwave and a television in the room. Josh sits on the couch closest to the door, and Brendon just sits on the other one, looking at him quizzically.

"What's going on with you, man?"

"I have testicular cancer. I, uh, went to an endocrinologist around the twentieth of January, had a few tests done, then I was referred to an oncologist at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Lost one of my testicles, but I have a fake one, and after taking about five weeks to recover from the surgery, I started radiation therapy. It's why I look like shit. Tomorrow's my last day."

"So, you've been dealing with this since January, but you're just  _now_ telling me about it?"

"This isn't really about you, man. I've been sick. I can't even stand for more that ten minutes at a time without getting dizzy, and I haven't been able to do a whole lot, let alone travel to the middle of bumfuck Columbus to talk to you privately."

"Who else knows? Tyler and I can't be the only ones who know."

Josh lets out a breath and looks up at the ceiling. "Tyler knows, obviously, given we're together. He found out a few weeks after I got back from Baltimore, on the first day I had radiation. I told Deborah and Jenna about it the day after, since I've been going every other day for the past six weeks. I told them since my dad had cancer, and since I apparently have cancer, because I figure it runs in our family. I didn't know it was a thing in my family when I agreed to be their sperm donor, and I figure Nathan probably has some predisposition to it, so I told them. I, uh... Told Dallon about a week and a half after I told Deb and Jen, but only out of, like, necessity. I was--I was having a shitty day and he was the only one I was able to tolerate besides Tyler, so I had Tyler ask him for a favor." Josh shrugs.

"Yeah? What kind of favor?" Brendon sounds snide and looks peeved and Josh takes a deep breath before replying as calmly as possible. Brendon's such an angry guy, and Josh wants to avoid a fight.

"I was having a shitty day, and, honestly, I've had a shitty thirty one, almost thirty two years, but I didn't really want Tyler to leave me alone, so he was kind enough to buy a hamburger for me. That sounds pretty pathetic in hindsight but it meant a lot to me since I really couldn't do much on my own. Anyways, after him it was Patrick, and I don't think I've told Pete, but I'm pretty sure Patrick did, because he hovers a lot whenever I'm at the diner, and he was hovering when I went to his apartment so he could dye my hair."

"So, I'm the last person you told. You told my  _boyfriend_ before telling  _me."_

"To reiterate: This isn't about you, and it's not that deep. It's not like I was intentionally keeping this from you, alright? I'm a private guy, and you know that. I just--I don't like it when everyone starts prying."

Brendon makes a comment about Tyler, and  _that's_ when Josh snaps. He just flat out yells at him. "Will you fucking  _get over it?!_ Tyler's been in my life for almost  _three years_ now, and he is  _not_ leaving  _anytime_ soon. I don't  _care_ that you don't like him, but if you want to work your fucking shit out with me, then you're going to have to get over your jealous."

Brendon scoffs. "I am  _not_ jealous."

"Then why won't you fucking drop it?" Josh throws an arm up in the air. "Since day fucking  _one_ you've hated him. I mean, at first, I thought it was just because he was young, and, like, I get that, but this  _shit_ has gone on for  _too long._ You don't get to treat Tyler like shit then expect me to act like nothing's wrong between us.

"You're  _never_ going to have me. I'm not yours, not now, not  _ever,_ and, god, for the first time in my fucking life I--I'm in  _love_ with someone, and you just--you're expecting me to, what, drop him? You're expecting me to drop the most important person in my entire life just because you don't like him? Fuck, we aren't even friends anymore.

"It's like you don't even care that I have cancer. Like, you've somehow managed to make this like yourself like you do with every single other fucking thing in your life. Not  _once_ have you bothered to genuinely ask if I'm okay, or to even speak to me on your own, and I just--even when I was trying to, y'know, not do copious amounts of drugs, you reacted with  _anger_ instead of just  _supporting_ me like a good best friend would do. Hell, I've even been seeing a therapist to get help with anxiety and depression, and, right now, even given the circumstances, I just--I'm  _happy!_ For one of the first times ever I'm  _happy._ You literally--you really don't care, do you?

"You treat me like this, you treat me so  _terribly,_ to the point I've literally had fucking  _panic attacks_ from just  _seeing you,_ and then you just expect me to forgive you? Just like that--no questions asked--you expect  _me_ to forgive  _you?_ I'm getting my shit together, man! I'm sorry that you can't grow the fuck up and I'm sorry that my life doesn't fucking revolve around you anymore. You have  _got_ t oget over whatever fucking creepy obsession it is you have with me."

"You're not exactly innocent either, you know." Brendon's calm and blunt and Josh is livid.

He yells louder than he's ever yelled at anyone before, and even goes so far as to stand up.  _"Have you not been listening to a single fucking word I've been saying?"_ The volume of his voice drops after this, and he has to sit back down, and, god, he just sounds so fucking defeated and broken as he's saying, "Fuck, man, I'm not saying I've been perfect, because I haven't, I really haven't, and I know I've treated you like shit for the longest time, but... you really need to grow up. We aren't nineteen anymore and I don't have the energy to be fighting with you like a couple of teenagers.

"I just--I have a life. I'm starting my own advertising agency, I'm in a healthy relationship with a fucking amazing guy for the first time in my life, an amazing guy who is  _so much more_ than I'll  _ever_ deserve, and I'm trying to make more of an effort to be a freaking  _father_ to Nathan, at least as much as Debby and Jenna will let me. Christ--did you even know I got to a point to where I forgot how old he was? That's how fucking bad things were, and, man, if you think I'm missing you even  _half_ as much as you're missing me, you're dead fucking wrong. I can live without you, and, hell, I've been living without you since you met fucking  _Ryan._ You  _do not_ get to come crawling back to me and you can't expect me to just go back to how I was.

"I was so,  _so_ fucking miserable that I didn't give a shit whether or not I lived or died. If I wasn't constantly  _on_ something, I wouldn't be surprised if I tried killing myself. I refused, like, absolutely  _refused_ to let myself feel anything other than hatred, anger, or resentment, and another fucking reason I get so pissed off at you for hating Tyler is because he fucking  _taught_ me what it means to love someone, and what it means to be happy. I just--I don't know how he did it, but  _somehow_ he got past all those fucking barriers I put up, saw past my apathetic and emotionless attitude, and took the time to actually try getting to know me, and, god, I love him so fucking much. I just--I don't--I don't get why you can't just--" at this point, Josh starts tearing up, and, honestly, he's surprised he managed to last this long without crying, "--can't just be  _happy_ for me.

"Christ, I was happy for you when you met Dallon, even though I didn't show it, because he's a  _lot_ fucking more than you deserve, let me tell you. I was happy for you and even gave you five thousand fucking dollars when you bought out this shitty little store, and I've charged you barely a percent of what I usually charge for a fucking kick ass advertising campaign, and I am  _always_ your fucking shoulder to cry on whenever something has happened.

"Let's face it, man--I'm done. Whatever friendship we had ran its course. I can't  _deal_ with how you treat me anymore, and I'm tired of giving you chances to tuck your tail and say sorry, and actually mean it, and I'm just tired of trying, man. I don't deserve to be walked all over. I really don't."

Brendon stares at Josh, in shock, for the second time that day, because Josh just spilled his guts to him, and because Josh is fucking crying, and the last time Brendon saw him cry they were twenty three and it was after an incident that they don't talk about.

Josh doesn't give him the chance to reply before he's turning around and walking out of the room, out of the shop, then walking to where he parked his car down the street.

\---

Dallon's quiet as he steps into his shared apartment with Brendon. He's a quiet guy in general, but he feels weird when he walks in, because Brendon isn't sitting on the couch, eating or drinking a beer and watching TV like he usually is. Dallon goes through his usual routine, setting his briefcase down on the coffee table next to his laptop so he can grade papers later, before he's walking back over the door so he can hang his wool coat on the coat rack, and so he can slip his shoes off, setting them in their designated spot in the line of shoes by the door. He undoes his tie, and hangs it on the hook on the coat rack that he keeps his favorite ties on before he's walking back to the bedroom he shares with Brendon.

He's a little surprised to see a Brendon sized lump in the bed under the blankets, which isn't a common occurrence. It's only happened once or twice since Brendon had moved in, and both times he was super upset, and the only times he gets upset like this is when he talks to Josh and it doesn't go well. Personally, Dallon thinks that Brendon's in the wrong on the whole Josh situation, but he also thinks that Josh could stand to be a little more understanding and compassionate with Brendon.

Present time, Dallon sits on the floor next to the bed, and peels the blanket back far enough so he can see Brendon's face, which is red, splotchy, and sticky looking in the way faces get after someone's been crying for a while. "What's up, bumble bee?"

"Put the blanket back on me," Brendon commands with a glare thrown at Dallon.

"No can do. I can't do that until you tell me what's wrong. I'd be a shitty boyfriend if I continued to let you hide and be miserable when I could help." Dallon places one of his large hands on one of Brendon's cheeks, and he wipes a tear from under Brendon's eye. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

"Josh stopped by the shop today." Brendon's defeated, and knows that Dallon probably would've found out anyways. Dallon doesn't say anything, but he knows that he talks to Josh.

Dallon winces in response.

"Why didn't you tell me he had cancer?"

"Tyler made me swear on my mother and a bible, then made me pinky promise not to tell anyone, including you. I would have, trust me, but I wanted to respect Josh's privacy, alright? He wasn't in a good place when they told me. Like, he couldn't even stand up and could hardly eat anything without throwing up,  _and_ you know how Josh is, what with his pride and all. Also, as someone with HIV who could die if he so much as got a cold at the wrong time, and who has had near death experiences with heroin and in general getting sick, I can understand what he's going through pretty well." Dallon keeps his tone soft and not at all threatening.

Brendon just nods and closes his eyes, not opening them when he talks. "He wanted to talk to me. He tried telling me about the cancer stuff, but I fucked up and ran my mouth like I always do and made it about myself. I didn't even bother to ask if he was alright once he actually told me. Christ, he's supposed to be my best friend, but--but he said we aren't even friends."

"Did anything else happen...?"

"I couldn't keep my mouth shut about Tyler. I just--I know the only reason I don't like him is because I'm jealous, but it's--it's different when Josh is actually calling me out for it. He even told me the situation wasn't about me, and pointed out that I really need to get over my shit, and he's right, but I fucking  _can't,_ and I don't know why."

Dallon brushes his thumb across Brendon's cheekbone. "You love him, Brendon. I'm not--I'm not foolish enough to think that you'd suddenly stop loving him the second I came into the picture, because, let's be real--we both had lives before we met each other, and I even have people I still love, and, I'm alright with it if you still love him. Just--putting that out there, alright?"

"I really love you. Fuck. Did you know that Josh has literally had panic attacks just from  _seeing_ me? I just--I don't know how I let myself get that bad. I don't know why I treat him like shit. I don't know  _why_ I get so malicious with him. I don't hate him, I  _can't_ hate him. Christ, if anything, I hate myself for being such a fucking piece of shit."

"You're not a piece of shit, Brendon. Although I do think you're in the wrong in the whole Josh situation, I still support you. I want things to work out between the two of you, friendship wise. I hate seeing you fight with him. Quite frankly, it makes me sad."

Brendon reaches a hand out and messes up Dallon's hair, and Dallon doesn't protest for once. He doesn't have anywhere he needs to be, so he supposes that sacrificing his neatly styled hair is the least he could do for Brendon.

"You know what else sucks? I didn't realize how miserable he's been. I only cared about him liking me. I didn't care that he was ruining his life with drug use, and I barely cared that the drinking and the drug use got worse after the whole thing with Tyler almost dying. I just--I acted like he was overreacting, but he wasn't."

"Wait--hold up--what is this about Tyler?"

"Fuck, I never told you. I figured Josh did. He, uh, he was bashed over the head with a baseball bat at his senior prom, and Josh watched it happen. I was--I was getting ready to board a flight since I was going to move with my boyfriend at the time to Nevada, but Josh called me, freaking out. I think it's one of the only times I was ever actually there for him. Before that was after an incident that happened when we were twenty three. It's the kind of incident we don't talk about."

Dallon shushes Brendon and runs his hand through the younger man's hair as he starts crying again. He calms down again, long enough to continue.

"He just... he got so bad for a while, because Tyler's dad made sure that Josh couldn't see him, and  _blamed_ him for what happened and... I don't even know what happened, and I don't know why I was so fucking mean to him when he told me he started going to NA again. I wasn't even trying to be mean, but I just--I talk without thinking sometimes. He's gone so many times in the past but it never actually stuck until now."

"Can I be honest?" When Brendon nods, Dallon continues. "I think it's because he has Tyler. Tyler  _really_ loves him, Brendon."

Brendon nods again. "I know he does, I know. Do you know how long I've liked Josh?"

"How long?"

"Since we met when we were twelve. I was trying  _so fucking hard_ to be with him and basically worshiped him for eighteen fucking years. Do you know how shitty it felt when Tyler came into the picture? Imagine trying to get with the same guy for eighteen years, minus the few boyfriends here and there, then watching as some fucking seventeen year old shows up and makes the guy fall in love with him within a few months. It  _killed_ me.

"Like, I tried for  _two thirds_ of my life to get with him, because, fuck, I really loved him, then  _Tyler_ came along, and I just--I felt like Tyler stole him from me, you know? I knew--I  _knew_ the minute that Josh laid eyes on him that Tyler was going to be trouble. I mean, he's a really nice kid, he is, but I meant trouble for me, I guess."

"I understand that, Brendon. I can't imagine how it felt."

"It broke my fucking heart, man. I spent so long trying to figure it out--what was Tyler doing differently from me? Why wouldn't Josh look at me like he looked at Tyler? Why wouldn't Josh ever go so far out of his way for me?"

"Love is kind of tricky that way. It never really has much reason or rhyme to it."

"Can I keep going or are you getting tired of it?"

Dallon shakes his head. "Keep going if you want. I don't mind. If talking helps, then go for it. I'll listen as long as you'll let me."

"I really love you. God. Anyways--Tyler. Jesus. I've been so  _mad_ at him for the past few years, and I've been treating him like shit. I didn't even stop to think about how Josh felt. Like, if someone treated you the way I treat Tyler and Josh, I would've been so upset, not to mention livid. Man, do you know how  _betrayed_ I felt when Josh would defend Tyler without question every time I'd pick on him. I mean, I don't blame him, I really don't know that I think about it, but at the time it just... Fuck."

Dallon leans forward and plants a gentle kiss to Brendon's forehead before he continues yammering on. To Dallon, it doesn't really feel like yammering. He understands that Brendon's upset, and he's not the kind of guy who would get mad at him for it. Brendon talks a lot, and he's alright with that.

"I still don't know what he sees in Tyler."

"Brendon?"

"What?"

"I'll let you in on a secret. When you love someone like Josh and Tyler love each other, you love all of them. You don't just get to pick and choose which parts of them you do and don't like. Love is supposed to be unconditional, and they love each other unconditionally, kind of like how I love you. You're far from perfect, like, I'll be the first to say it, but, to me, you're kind of, like, my dream guy."

"Hey, Dallon?"

"What?"

"If gay marriage is ever legal in America, can we get married?"

Dallon laughs loudly, and nods, saying, "Yes, a thousand times  _yes,"_ before basically assaulting Brendon on all fronts with a kiss.

"Anyways, I'm going to continue. I think you should talk to both Josh and Tyler about what you just told me. I mean, you should give him time to cool off, and don't expect Tyler to be forgiving right off the bat, because, honestly, he holds grudges like no other, but I think if you explained all of that to either of them, you'd win at least a few brownie points."

\---

Josh is shouting and pulling his usual routine of crying out of frustration as he paces around the living room, with Tyler sitting at Josh's desk so he can watch him pace. Tyler's suddenly a lot more pissed off with Brendon than he had been before, because Josh just... Josh is probably the angriest Tyler has seen him before, which is saying something, since he's seen Josh pissed off before.

"Did you know he asked me if you were turning me against him? Like,  _no,_ you fucking piece of shit--you did that your damn self." Josh kicks one of the tables next to the couch, sending it and the lamp on top of it flying across the room. The table breaks into three pieces against the wall, and the lap that'd been on it shatters the second it hits the hardwood.

Tyler gets up from his spot and steps over to Josh, placing hands on his shoulders, and turning him around to face him. "Josh, you should go take a shower or something."

He rips himself away from Tyler's hands, protesting, saying, "No, I don't. I need to clean this shit up."

Tyler grabs his arm a little harder than necessary, though.  _"Josh,_ this isn't up for debate. Go take a shower while I clean this up, alright? You've had a shitty day and you need time to cool off."

Josh complies, stalking over to the hallway and into his bedroom. He's fast about taking his coat, his sweater, and his button up off, before he's sitting on the bed so he can pull his pants and the leggings he had on underneath them off, tossing them towards the hamper. (He gets cold easily, mostly due to being underweight and in general sickly a lot of the time.) He's still fuming, and he refrains from screaming, but he does sit on his bed, punching his pillow over and over, trying to get some of the anger and resentment out of his system.

He feels guilty, but right now, due to all of this sudden  _stress,_ he's jonesing for a hit of  _something._ He won't give in, because he's made so much progress so far, but he's definitely having issues right now. Once he's done punching his pillow, he's even more exhausted, but he forces himself to get up and walk over to the bathroom, and, alright, suddenly he isn't feeling too good.

He manages to look at himself in the mirror, and suddenly everything feels all light and floaty, then his legs are giving out and he vaguely remembers whacking his head on the counter before he's on the floor, losing consciousness.

Tyler's on the other end of the apartment, working on getting shards of glass from the shattered lamp off of the floor when he hears a thud coming from the bathroom. He debates on whether or not to go check on Josh, and he finally decides to go after figuring that he didn't want to risk something happening to Josh. He brushes his hands off on his jeans, and takes his shoes off again before entering the hall, just in case he were to track shards of glass into the hall on accident. (Josh would probably be at least a little mad at him if he stepped on glass.)

Tyler knocks on the door frame, saying Josh's name, and when he doesn't get an answer, he ventures into the room and knocks on the bathroom door next. He doesn't get an answer then either, and to him the following events play out sort of like some horror movie. Josh is on the floor and he's  _bleeding_ from his head, and Tyler's just saying  _fuck_ as he's getting a hand towel from the counter, and wadding it up to press against Josh's head, which he pulls into his lap, before he's calling 911 on his cell phone. While he's waiting for the operator to answer, he takes Josh's pulse by pressing his fingers against his neck, and curses since his pulse is in the low hundreds, which definitely isn't good since Josh's pulse tends to be between sixty and seventy beats per minute. (Tyler only knows this from being with him for a few doctor's appointments.)

Josh is still breathing and aside from being unconscious and bleeding on the floor with a high pulse, he's mostly fine. When the operator answers and asks him what his emergency is, he says, "My partner fainted, I think, and his pulse is super high and he's hyperventilating and--and he hit his head or something because there's--there's blood."

\---

Josh doesn't wake up during the ambulance ride, and Tyler barely manages to keep his shit together. He's separated from Josh and has a chat with a doctor. He has to fill out a form regarding his health, and Tyler's brain hurts trying to make sense of it since he's freaking out and big words are scary. To make matters worse, this isn't the hospital they usually go to for appointments or emergencies.

The form itself mostly just asks about any physical illnesses that he has, and about alcohol and drug use, and Tyler just writes what he knows. He knows Josh has asthma, and he's only seen him ever have one asthma attack, but he figures it's still worth noting. He almost forgets to write down that he's being treated for testicular cancer.  _Allergies... He's allergic to aluminum and penicillin. I know that. Aaand... his blood type._

Tyler doesn't know his blood type. That's one of the only things he doesn't know about Josh's health. He has to pull his phone out, and his first reflex is to call Brendon, since he figured that'd be one of the weird things that Brendon just happens to know after eighteen years of friendship, but he refrains from doing so. "Who else could I call..." Tyler mumbles under his breath until he sees Jordan's contact in his phone.  _Twenty six years beats eighteen._

Josh only gave him that number for emergencies only, and, alright, yeah, this definitely counts as an emergency, so he presses the call button and wedges his phone between his left shoulder and his ear, tapping the pen in his left hand against the clipboard nervously. Instead of answering his phone with a simple, "Hello," like most people do, Josh's brother answers with,  _"Who is this?"_

 _Are all Duns weird...?_ "Um. Tyler. I don't--I don't know if you remember me--"

 _"You were at Dad's funeral with Josh. I know who you are. Why are you calling?"_ He doesn't sound annoyed, just... more or less curious.

"Josh fainted and we're at an emergency room and I need to know his blood type. Figured you'd be more likely to know than Brendon would." Tyler's still fiddling with the pen.

_"AB negative. Is he alright?"_

"I don't know. He's unconscious. I'm just filling out paperwork right now. Um. Thanks...? I guess?"

_"Yeah, no problem. He's my brother. If you need to know anything else, I'm basically a fountain of information on his health issues."_

"I already, uh, have everything important down. Thanks, though."

\---

A doctor comes out to speak with Tyler, and to go over the form with him, just to make sure everything's correct.

...and to also ask, "It says his next of kin is... Tyler Robert Joseph. Is that you?"

 _Asshole! He didn't even_ ask. "Yeah, uh, that's me."

"Hate to be that guy, but do you have any form of ID on you just to verify...?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." Tyler holds up a finger as he pulls his wallet out. He looks through the cards, and the doctor snorts a bit when he's mumbling, "Nope, that's the fake one," under his breath before pulling out his driver's license which expires in a few months, then his state ID from when he was, like, sixteem.

"That'll do. We need your permission to run a few tests on him. I would ask him myself, but he's unconscious."

"Uh... depends on what, I guess."

"We just need to draw a bit of blood. He's already on an IV, by the way."

Tyler gives the doctor the go ahead for that, and paces around the waiting room, biting at his thumbnail until it bleeds, before switching to his other thumbnail. That goes on for at least half an hour until the doctor is back in the room to lead Tyler to an exam room to speak with him privately.

"Is he alright?"

"He's  _really_  anemic and he's dehydrated. I'm going to suggest a blood tranfusion,  _but_ we're low in his specific type of blood. Before that, though, can I ask if anything... stressful has happened recently? It'll just help me understand what's happening."

"I mean, he has cancer and his physical health isn't the greatest, and he's underweight. Uh. Today, though, he got into a pretty bad shouting match with one of his friends and got himself worked up pretty bad. Um... I don't know. I think--I think that's it...?"

The doctor nods, and he's looking down at a paper, and doesn't look up as he gets his pen ready while asking, "What's your blood type?"

"O negative."

"Are you gay?"

"Is this a good time to say no?"

"FDA regulations states that gay people can't donate blood. Personally, I think it's a load of shit, pardon my french, but the regulation was made when HIV was running rampant in the seventies and eighties."

"Then I'm not gay. I, uh, don't--don't have any STDs, or anything else, by the way."

"Would you be willing to donate blood...?"

"Of course."

\---

Tyler feels a little faint himself when he's being led back to the waiting room after having quite a bit of blood drawn. He plops down in a seat, and closes his eyes, head tilted upward against the wall behind him. He frowns but doesn't open his eyes when he feels someone sitting  _right next to him_ in the almost empty waiting room. His frown goes away though when he hears fucking  _Dallon._ "What brings you to this fine establishment?" he mumbles.

"Had to call an ambulance because someone fainted and hit his head on the counter, then that certain someone needed a blood transfusion," Tyler mumbles back. "How about you?"

"Brendon's clumsy and managed to slice his palm open with a knife on accident."

"How...?"

"He was trying to make dinner. Ironically, the last time I tried made dinner, I injured myself bad enough to warrant stitches."

Tyler grunts.

"Why'd Josh faint?"

"You hear about his little spat with Brendon?"

"Of course."

"The doctor here said he was stressed, anemic, and dehydrated."

"You look sick, man."

Tyler opens his eyes at that and glares at Dallon. It holds no water and he's pretty sure the older man, like, way older man, knows that. "I just had  _blood_ drawn because they were low on O and AB negative and I'm O negative."

"That's sweet, that you'd offer your blood up so he could have a blood transfusion."

Tyler rolls his eyes. "He needed it."

\---

Tyler ends up sitting in the room Josh is occupying for a little over an hour before he's waking up, muttering,  _"Where the fuck..."_ as he blearily looks around himself before catching sight of one of the IVs in one of his hands and the hospital bracelet on the other. He groans, quietly, and lets his head fall back against the paper thin hospital pillows. "An explanation would be nice."

"Well, you fainted, hit your head on the counter, I'm assuming, and wouldn't wake up, so I called 911."

Josh groans,  _again,_ and squeezes his eyes shut. "Why me, man?"

"Well, the doctor said you were  _too_ stressed, and that you're also anemic and dehydrated. Aaand also the fact that you're kind of underweight had a lot to do with it. Also, I want to know when and  _why_ you listed me as your next of kin." Tyler's just a little irritable, trying not to lose his shit, still.

"Mm, last year, around July. I didn't have any contact with my mom, and I don't want my brother as my next of kin, plus you're, like, my partner, and I trust you with my life, literally, so I just listed you." He shrugs, and yawns a little bit. He moves his arm, to do something, Tyler isn't sure, but swears and tries looking at it, but fails. He's too groggy and too out of it, apparently. "Why does my arm hurt?"

"You have an IV in your hand and one in your elbow. That'd be why. One's for fluids the other's blood."

"Oh,  _ew._ The idea of that shit freaks me out."

"It's  _my_ blood,  _dick."_ Tyler scoffs just a little bit and gently hits Josh in the bicep.

"You're gay. That's illegal."

"I know, but I'm also good at lying, and it was either that or no blood transfusion and lots of orange juice. I mean, you're still going to drink as much orange juice and other... iron filled things as I can get you to, but still. They were running low on blood or whatever, and I'm O negative, and definitely not gay, so, you know." Tyler shrugs, voice sounding casual, and Josh actually bothers to look at him with some slightly dopey look on his face.

"Have I told you that I love you recently?"

"A few times, but you could stand to mention it more." Tyler smiles a little shyly. Josh is injured and in a hospital bed but still has the ability to make Tyler feel like some love-struck school girl.

"Well, I love you. A lot."

Tyler huffs a little bit, kisses him on the lips. "I love you too. I'm gonna go get a doctor since you're awake."

As it turns out, Josh managed to give himself a concussion, and the only response that news warrants out of him is, "Great, now I have cancer  _and_ a concussion."

\---

Josh coughs up enough money to bribe the hospital into letting him go home that night instead of keeping him there for a few days for observation. He doesn't spare a glance towards Dallon and Brendon, who were hovering around the hospital, both worried about Josh, despite Brendon being pissed at him, while he's trailing Tyler through the waiting room and out of the hospital. Tyler takes his jacket off and forces Josh to wear it after noticing he was shivering once outside.

While they're waiting for a cab, Josh stands against the side of the building, glaring at nothing, and mutters, "I fucking  _hate_ this shit. I mean, aside from the obvious stuff, I'm just--I'm so physically  _weak._ It's, what, fifty degrees? It's fifty degrees and I'm  _shivering,_ even with two jackets on. I feel like I'm about to freeze. To top it all off, I've got radiation tomorrow, then blood tests and MRI scans to get done to make sure the cancer is either gone or at least hasn't spread."

Tyler sighs and stands in front of him before he's wrapping his arms around Josh's waist and hugging him. Josh hugs him back, and runs his fingers through his hair. They stand there like that for a good while until Tyler's admitting, "You scared the shit out of me today," with a slightly shaky breath. "I thought something bad was going to happen."

Josh holds him a bit tighter. "Not a chance. I promised you I wasn't going anywhere, and I fully intend to keep that promise, alright sweetheart?"

Tyler nods and Josh forces him to look up at him.

 _"Alright?_ I'll make you repeat after me, Tyler." Josh gives him a bit of a playful look, but fails, mostly, since he looks like shit.

Tyler still smiles up at him a little dumbly, though. "Shut up, man."

Josh dips his head a little bit to kiss him on the lips, and Tyler can tell he's trying not to smile, what with how tense his lips are.

\---

Tyler  _has_ to go to classes on the day Josh finds out whether or not he’s in remission, which really fucking sucks. He gets through the first two, and goes home until the evening, which is when he has his third and final class of the day. (Also his favorite class, considering Dallon teaches, and considering Dallon plays favorites.)

Tyler paces around the entire apartment, and cleans it thoroughly, even stopping along the way to make himself a small meal, all before Josh gets home. When Tyler hears the door opening, he’s out of the bedroom and shooting out from the hallway at almost light speed. Josh looks…  _weird._ Tyler would probably describe the look as either shock or fear. He couldn’t tell.

“Well? What the fuck happened?” Tyler asks as he grips Josh’s arms tightly.

Josh opens and closes his mouth a few times, before making eye contact with Tyler, whispering, “I’m in remission.”

Tyler dead ass fucking  _screams,_ and yanks Josh down into one of the tightest hugs he’s ever given anyone. Josh repeats himself, a little louder, as if he’s actually processing it this time; “I’m in remission.”

Tyler nods vigorously and bounces up and down a bit, grinning like a dumb ass. “You’re in remission!”

“I’m in fucking remission.” Josh is starting to smile a little bit now, and he starts laughing happily, spinning both himself and Tyler around in a circle. “I’m in fucking  _remission!”_

Tyler shouts and lets out a few straight boy war cries, a habit from his straight basketball phase in high school that he never managed to break, before he’s pretty much yelling, “We have to celebrate! This is--this is fucking amazing.”

Josh gets dressed in a heavy sweater, since he still tends to get chills and since he hasn’t had a chance to start gaining some of his weight back, plus a pair of his nicest skinny jeans, whereas Tyler just throws on a t-shirt and a simple jacket, plus his own pair of skinny jeans. They hold hands, and keep smiling at each other while they walk to, you guessed it--the diner.

Pete’s working a day shift, and as he sets both Tyler and Josh’s usual drinks on the counter in front of them, he asks, “What has you two all giddy?”

Tyler looks at Josh, asking, “Which one of us gets to tell him?”

“Rock paper scissors?”

“You’re on, fucker.”

Tyler wins, two out of three, so he simply says, “Josh is in remission,” as the same dumb and wide as hell smile crawls its way back onto Tyler’s face. Josh is grinning genuinely and widely too, and Pete lets out a ferocious shout of,  _“Fuck yeah!”_

Everyone in the restaurant jumps at Pete’s exclamation, which draws a bunch of excited giggles out of both Tyler  _and_ Josh. Some blonde kid that Tyler kind of wants to hit on at some point raises his voice to ask, “Why’d you scare the shit out of us?”

“My buddy  _Joshua fucking Dun_ over here,” Pete throws his arms out, gesturing towards Josh, “is in remission.”

Josh starts crying happy tears, not really caring at who sees, when everyone in the diner starts cheering, and as a bunch of people come up to him to congratulate him and offer him hugs.

Once things settle down, the two men place their orders, force Pete to  _not_ tell anyone else, and eat slowly before they’re set to walk to their next place to break the news.

Josh is the one that eats slowly, still not really used to being able to actually eat without either throwing it up, or being super nauseous. Tyler’s patient with him, talking to him while he eats, and not making any comments when Josh has to stop a little over halfway through his meal due to being full. (“I can’t wait until I can actually eat properly again. Fuck.” -Joshua Dun, May 4th, 2003.)

Next stop: Patrick’s apartment, since Patrick is usually home on Sunday.

Josh gets a little winded going up the steps to the third story of Patrick’s apartment complex, but he powers through it, mostly due to the adrenaline. Tyler holds his hand, basically dragging him, and Josh, honestly, wouldn’t be surprised if Tyler was more excited than he was about all of this. Josh is just glad that he was able to keep his promise to the younger boy, or man, now that he thinks about it.

Both of them maintain their composure, and they have another rock-paper-scissors contest to see who gets to tell Patrick. Josh wins this one and they have to wait a few minutes before Patrick answers. The man looks tired, but when he sees that it’s Josh and Tyler who knocked, he looks a little concerned. He was one of the only people who knew about Josh finding out whether or not he was in remission that day, and Patrick figures that, by the looks on their faces, the news isn’t good.

He invites them in and motions towards the couch while he goes and finds a pair of pants to accompany his oversized t-shirt. Tyler notices that Patrick’s put on a little weight since he first met him, and he’s glad. The man looks good, and not at all unhealthy anymore. Also, he quit bleaching his fucking hair, which was a miracle.

“So, uh… what happened?” The thirty four year old asks, sitting down in the recliner that’s near the couch.

Josh sighs, and tries to look as dejected as possible, and manages to keep a monotonous tone as he says, “I’m in remission.”

Patrick’s eyes widen almost comically, and, honestly, Josh has  _never_ seen him move as fast as he was when he was flying out of the chair to pretty much knock Josh over in a hug. Josh returns it, only because this specific occasion was a viable excuse for Patrick to hug him like this. Tyler joins in on the group hug, until he and Josh have to leave again.

Debby and Jenna’s house isn’t too far of a walk from Patrick’s apartment, so they’re the next ones. Josh and Tyler don’t have a rock paper scissors contest to see who gets to tell them this time. When Josh knocks on the door, Jenna answers, and she looks a little annoyed to see that it’s Josh, until she gets a better look at his face, which, by the way, is a really fucking happy face.

“Please, please,  _please_ tell me you’re in remission,” She requests as Tyler and Josh follow her further into the house.

Josh confirms it, saying, “Fuck yes,” just before Nathan comes running into the room as fast as his three year old legs will carry him, shouting, “Dada! Unkie Tile!”

Tyler hoists Nathan up, since Josh probably doesn’t have the muscle mass anymore, and carries him on his hip while the four of them head to the kitchen, where Debby is making some French toast, and something else that’s not too harsh on the stomach of a three year old. “What are you all smiling about?”

Nate babbles out, “Remaneshin,” and Debby immediately takes the pan of the burner and yanks her apron off as she hugs Josh just about as tight as Tyler had earlier that day. Josh returns the hug, and they hold it for a quite a while, until Debby’s finally saying, “Thank fucking god,” into Josh’s shoulder.

After they finally get out of the Ryan-Black household, Josh calls a cab, and gives the cab driver the address to Brendon’s record store. Tyler is still with him, and ends up standing outside, smoking his first cigarette that he’s smoked in almost a year while Josh enters the shop to talk to Brendon again.

Josh isn’t too expressive once he’s face to face with Brendon, and he’s suddenly anxious over talking to his former best friend. Brendon doesn’t say anything rude or harsh, but rather opts for, “What’s up?”

Josh shrugs. “Not much. Uh, had an appointment with an oncologist this morning.”

Brendon’s eyebrows shoot up for a second, and he walks around the counter to stand a little closer to Josh as he asks, “How’d it go?”

“I’m in remission. I mean, there’s a good chance it could come back within the next year or so, but I’m good for now.”

Brendon smiles softly, and asks, “Can I hug you?”

Josh nods and holds his arms out. The hug is… weird. Okay, it’s not weird, but Brendon starts crying and holding onto the back of Josh’s sweater. Josh doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t even have an urge to force Brendon to let him go. He just quietly places one of his hands on the back of the man’s head.

Brendon takes a deep and shaky breath, and turns his head to the side so he can talk. “I’m so fucking sorry, Josh. Now’s not the time, but I really regret everything's that’s happened.”

Josh mumbles, “Do you want to have a talk now that I’m not cranky from radiation?” and Brendon nods. “Alright. Uh, Tyler’s standing outside, so I’m gonna go tell him.”

Brendon lets go of Josh, and regains his composure.

Josh pokes his head out of the door, and says, “I’m gonna have a talk with Brendon. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but, uh,” the thirty one, almost thirty two year old rifles through his wallet, and hands Tyler a few fifties, “cab money, in case you want to go home.”

Tyler takes the money. “I’ll wait, but thanks for the cash.”  
  
Josh squints, and calls him a dick, and Tyler just pecks him on the lips.

\---

“Will you let me talk for a bit with no interruptions until I’m done?”

Josh nods, and works on trying to harden himself as he sits where he sat the last time he was in the shop, and while Brendon sits where he sat last time.

“Okay, first off, I’m sorry, and this is going to be kind of long winded. Yes, it’s mostly about me, but it’s just--I need to explain myself, alright? I haven’t explained myself and I haven’t tried to properly apologize yet.”

“Just get on with it.”

“I said no interruptions, dude.”

Josh makes a silly face and sticks his tongue out at Brendon, and Brendon just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m not trying to excuse my shitty behavior, by the way, but Dallon told me that it’d probably help if you had more of an understanding of my situation, and what’s been going on with me.” Brendon scrubs a hand down his face, and remembers that part of his conversation involves Tyler. “Wait, uh, is Tyler still outside? I think he should be here too.”

Josh nods and leaves for a minute or two to retrieve him. Tyler looks mostly curious when he sits next to Josh on the couch. Josh knows that Tyler’s intentionally pulling his usual move of tucking himself into Josh’s side while he gives Brendon an even look.

“Alright, alright, Tyler--I don’t want to be interrupted. I just need to talk and explain myself. This is all an apology, and not an excuse, and I just kind of think you guys need to understand my side of things.”

Tyler gives him a thumbs up, and,  _finally,_ Brendon gets started. For real, this time.

“Okay, Josh--I’ve had a pretty obvious and huge crush on you since we were twelve. I love you, obviously, and I know nothing’s ever going to happen, but that’s part of why I’ve been a piece of shit about all of this. Tyler--I am so fucking sorry I’ve been so mean and just flat out cruel towards you. I’ve been thinking about this stuff hardcore for the past month, and I just--I’m sorry, alright?

“I just--I want you to imagine liking someone,  _a lot,_ for eighteen years, but watching as someone else just comes along and basically wins over the person you like within a month. I know this isn’t about you stealing Josh, but that’s what it felt like to me, okay? I was, and still am sort of jealous, and jealousy just--I turn into an asshole when I’m jealous. Also, it felt like a betrayal.

“I’ve just been  _mad_ at you, Tyler, and it’s obviously totally unjustified. But I just--I didn’t know how to deal with someone I loved so fucking much, and probably unhealthily, falling in love with someone else that he barely knew. Or, well, at least barely knew in my eyes. I don’t, like, really know how you guys work, because I haven’t bothered to learn, but I just made a bunch of shitty assumptions.

“I have been dealing with this for the past few years, and it literally took Dallon talking to me for about ten minutes for me to get my head out of my ass. I want to backtrack a little bit though, alright? I also spent a good amount of time wondering what the  _fuck_ Tyler was doing different than me that was making you, Josh, like him more. I just--I didn’t get it, and honestly it broke my fucking heart, you know?”

Josh lets out a sigh, and cuts Brendon off for a minute. “I know you said no interruptions, but I’ve just--I’ve never thought of you like that, alright? You were my best friend, and I just--at the time I just needed a  _friend_ and not a partner. I know when I was, like, using, I was pretty manipulative, and I know I lead you on a lot just to keep you wrapped around my finger.”

“I know you did, and I’m just gonna say that was fucking shitty of you, but I also could’ve dealt with some of this shit better.”

“I know, man, I know. Just--look--I still have trouble opening up to people, and with Tyler, he didn’t know me since I was a teenager like the rest of you guys, excluding Dallon, so it was like--I got a chance to start fresh with someone, y’know? I still treated Tyler like shit at first, and I used to get annoyed with him a lot, but he just--he gives me stuff that you can’t, y’know?

 _“I_ needed someone who, uh, loved me unconditionally at the time, and I still do, given what’s been going on since January, and that is  _exactly_ what Tyler gives me. With you, it was always just… I felt like I had to do certain things just to please you, and even then it was never really enough, but with  _Tyler,_ he just--he’s been by my side almost constantly for the past almost three years, aside from a few incidents. Not  _once_ has he ever put me down, or doubted me, and that just--that was a fucking first for me, alright?

“Everyone I’ve known, like, you, Pete, Patrick, Jenna, and, like, Gerard before he overdosed in ‘96--you all just… Bullied me, basically, and didn’t really even bother trying to understand, or trying to learn. No one ever bothered to ask me how I was doing, no one  _supported_ me whenever I would try to get clean. You all just--you all enabled me, and that’s just--that’s why I cut most of you off. Or part of it, at least.

“And Brendon, I know you weren’t, or aren’t too happy about me being friends with Dallon, but you got to know that  _immediately_ once he learned I was trying to get clean, he told me about his own experience with that shit, and let me know that I wasn’t alone in all this, because I only really had Tyler at that time. That just--that meant a fucking lot to me, and it’s exactly what I needed to hear. It’s also part of why I went to him a lot when I was first in radiation. And I’m really fucking sorry that I told you that you didn’t deserve Dallon, because you do. You really do.”

“That’s… That’s a lot to take in, man. I just--you want to know why I pulled my head out of my ass? You want to hear exactly what Dallon said to me that made me just think,  _‘Oh.’”_

“Sure. What’d he say?”

 _“‘When you love someone like Josh and Tyler love each other, you don’t just get to pick and choose which parts of them you like, and don’t like.’_ And that’s what I did to you, Josh. I liked the parts of you that were nice to me, but not all the other parts of you that fit whatever image I had of you in my head. Dallon only even said that, because I was like, ‘I don’t even know what he sees in Tyler.’”

“Brendon, I don’t even know either. And Tyler, I’m not looking at you, but get that look off your face and hear me out. I see a  _lot_ of shit in him. I see a fucking brilliant and hardworking musician, I see the kindest person I’ve ever met, the most  _beautiful_ person I’ve ever met, I see a fucking fabulous chef that makes sure I’m fed and taken care of, which is something else that no one’s ever done for me before, and I see the one person I’ve ever  _truly_ had feelings for.  _Fuck,_ I’ve been monogamous since I started NA. That’s just--that’s fucking something, alright.”

Josh turns towards Tyler when he hears sniffling, and basically forgets they aren’t alone when he gets a concerned look on his face before he’s whispering, “Hey, c’mon sweetheart; don’t get misty eyed on me.”

Tyler just apologizes as he wipes his eyes off. “Sorry. Just--I’ve been waiting a long time for you to say something like that.”

Josh just smiles sympathetically before wrapping an arm around Tyler’s shoulder, and kissing him on the cheek.

And that’s about the moment Brendon  _really_ starts to get over Josh. It just took a confession like that, and physical evidence of how close the two of them are, and how much Josh just fucking  _cares_ for this kid, for him to realize that Josh will  _never_ be his, no matter how much he wants it. That--what he and Tyler have--that’s just--that’s true love, and it’s something he hopes he gets to experience with Dallon some day.

“Guys? Can I just… be forgiven?”

Josh looks over to Brendon. “While I appreciate the heart to heart, you’re going to have to just… make an effort, alright? No more of the bullshit of being mean to Tyler. Either you like him or you don’t, but he’s not going away for a long time, so you need to get along with him. I’ll make an effort too, but we just--we need to fix our friendship, and find other shit to bond over other than partying, because I just--I’m done with that shit.”

“What Josh said, basically. We weren’t really ever friends in the first place, but all I know from you is  _mean,_ so you’re going to have to do a fucking lot before I start trusting you or even liking you. Also, you need to separate business stuff from personal stuff. Just saying. Oh, and, if you  _ever_ start manipulating and abusing Josh again like you have been, you’re not going to like me, alright? In my eyes, he deserves the fucking world, especially after the past ten months of shit he’s been going through.”  
  
Brendon nods, and after that, Tyler and Josh leave, with Josh leading Tyler out with an arm around his waist, and Tyler just sticking close to him in general.

Last but not least, Dallon gets to hear the news. Josh calls another cab to take them to the art school Dallon works at. Tyler leads Josh through the art building on the way to the music building, and, funnily enough, Tyler spots Min, whose hair is now tied back in a man bun, and dyed a darker shade of purple. He stops Josh, and points, saying, “That’s the artist I fucked.”

Josh scoffs slightly. “Really? That string bean? He’s the guy you cheated on me with?”

“For one thing, you’re underweight, and for another--yeah. I thought he was a decent guy, but he’s not. Oh, fuck, he saw me. Fuck.” Tyler groans when the artist starts walking over, but almost laughs when Josh puts a protective arm around his shoulders.

Min looks Josh up and down, before disregarding him in favor of asking Tyler if he could have a word with him. Tyler doesn’t feel particularly comfortable being  _alone_ with Min, so he just replies with, “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of him.”

Min, being the blunt and shameless person Tyler remembers him to be, says, “I’m sorry about the shit with my ex-fiance, and I’m sorry about taking advantage of you when you were all upset about your shitty boyfriend.”

Josh scoffs louder this time, and socks Tyler in the arm. Not hard, though, but enough to get his point across. “You called me  _shitty?”_

“Listen, Josh, you were using, and in general just being a dickhead,” Tyler replies almost casually, and he snickers when Min’s eyes widen in realization.

“No shit. Huh. He’s not what I expected.”

“What’d you expect?” Tyler asks, mostly just out of curiosity.

“I dunno. Pictured him to be a little more vanilla, in that suburban white dad way, and not, like… really underweight and so… tired looking. Sheesh. Are you okay, man?”

Tyler can hear the slightly malicious intent in Min’s tone, so Tyler takes the opportunity to embarrass him. “He used to be really muscular, believe it or not.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, but a series of unfortunate events happened,  _but,_ today, we found out he’s in remission, so, hopefully, he’ll  be able to get back into tip-top shape.”  
  
“Oh, fucking Christ--I’m so sorry. Jesus.” Min groans and slaps his hands onto his face. He says something in Korean before conveniently excusing himself.

“Tyler, you’re savage. I fucking love it.”

Tyler pats Josh on the back, and finishes leading the way to Dallon’s lecture hall. They slip in, and Tyler just casually walks down the steps that are to the far right of the seats, and Dallon gives them a  _look._ Like, a  _you’re not supposed to be in here right now_ kind of look.

Dallon’s in his teacher mode, meaning he’s being a bit of a dick as he says, “Alright, guys, this is Tyler Joseph, and his partner, Josh Dun. Tyler, would you like to explain to my class why you interrupted my lecture?”

There’s a few snickers from some of the students as Tyler confidently stands in the center of attention. Josh stands next to him. “For one thing, it’s Dallon’s birthday.” Dallon gives Tyler the dirtiest look, since he didn’t want anyone to know. “You all want to sing happy birthday to him in that obnoxious shit eating way?”

A bunch of people laugh, and most of the students sing happy birthday to Dallon, whose face flushes a deep shade of pink. Once everyone quiets down, Tyler talks again. “Alright. In January,  _this guy,”_ Tyler gestures towards Josh, “was diagnosed with cancer. Thankfully, they caught it in the early stages of it, before it had a chance to spread. The past three or four months have been fucking hell, let me tell you, but, today, we found out that  _someone_ is in remission.”

A bunch of people gasp, almost everyone claps, and Dallon’s jaw is dropped for a few seconds before he’s striding over to Josh and giving him a hug. They hold the hug, and Tyler mentally laughs to himself, since Dallon is four inches taller than Josh, meaning he’s basically curled around the man. Tyler would’ve made a comment, but he’s seven inches shorter than Josh, and eleven shorter than Dallon, so he knows he would’ve gotten reamed for it.

\---

Josh looks exhausted when they finally get back to the apartment around eight in the evening. Dallon just marked Tyler as present in his role sheet, mostly as a favor, so the younger man could spend some quality time with Josh.

“You okay, J?”

“Just tired. Too much socializing, and the Brendon shit took a lot out of me. I’m not used to saying emotional shit to him. Usually I save that for you, since you don’t make me anxious.” Josh is mumbling mostly as he kicks his shoes off, and heads towards one of the bar stools to sit down and get off his feet.

“Are you hungry?” Tyler asks as he walks over to the fridge to look in it, trying to see if he could make something decent with whatever groceries they had in said fridge.

“Yeah, I am, actually. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“We have the stuff to make enough of the uh…” Tyler racks his brain for the Arabic word for the noodle thing his father serves at his restaurant, but he’s drawing blanks. “I forgot what it’s called. I haven’t spoken Arabic in ages. It’s the noodle thing Dad cooks, though. You’ve had it a few times.”

“You speak Arabic?”

“Kind of. I’ve forgotten a lot of it because I haven’t been around my dad or Grandpa in a while. Anyways, that’s beside the point. Uh… Actually… I don’t think I want to make that. I’m afraid of screwing it up, because it has to be cooked in a specific way.”

Josh makes a noise of acknowledgment while he rests his chin in the palm of his hand.

“Can I invite my dad over? You haven’t seen him since Pride in 2001, I think, and I wanna show you off, because I don’t think you realize how proud I am of you.”

Josh scrunches his face up. “I’m supposed to be an asshole, sweetheart. Quit making me feel all mushy.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Yes or no?”

“Sure. Tell him to bring  _actual_ Lebanese food, though. I don’t want none of the Americanized shit.”

“Gotcha.”

\---

Tyler lets Josh lay down for the few hours they have before Tyler’s dad is set to come over, bearing actual Lebanese food.

Josh was starting to feel a little fatigued, maybe even lethargic, so Tyler was pretty adamant on him taking a nap. Josh does a horrible job at taking care of himself, and Tyler just--he gets concerned.

Tyler gives his dad a quick hug, and takes the food from him and sets it all on the counter. His father says, “It looks different in here,” and Tyler nods.

“Got Josh to buy some more homey decorations and furniture over time.”

“Good choice. Where is he?”

“Taking a nap. Uh,” Tyler’s careful to speak in a hushed tone with his dad. “When I go get him, don’t ask him if he’s using, alright?”

“Using what…?”

“Drugs. I’ll explain what’s been going on for the past year once I get him in here, alright?”

The man just frowns a little bit, but nods nonetheless.

Tyler gently wakes Josh up by pressing gentle kisses all over his face. He’s pretty sure it’s one of Josh’s favorite ways to get woken up, no matter how much he says it annoys him. He lifts his head up a little bit. “Your dad here?”

“Mhm. I don’t think he knows you’ve been going to NA, let alone the cancer stuff, so we’re probably going to have to explain all that. Is that alright with you, or do you want me to tell him on my own?”

“I’m ridiculously hungry, Ty. You’d be surprised at what I’ll put up with if I’m hungry enough.”

Tyler snorts. “Can I have a kiss? You haven’t kissed me much today.”

Josh nods, and leads Tyler in a sweet kiss. It’s not a long one, but Tyler kisses back for a minute or two until remembering they have company. He wipes his mouth off, and helps Josh stand up. Josh exhales sharply and blinks a few times. “I hope this shit wears off.”

“Your doctor said it would once you started eating and exercising properly again, alright? Once I’m on break in the summer, I’ll start going to that one gym with you. You can’t over exert yourself, and I don’t really think you’re going to be able to get as beefy as you were, but you need to bulk up a bit. I’m supposed to be the dainty and fragile one.”

Josh rolls his eyes. “Hand me a sweatshirt, please.”

Tyler obeys and Josh follows him down the hallway. Josh hugs Tyler’s dad just a little longer than necessary, and doesn’t say anything more than a, “Hey, Mister Joseph.”

“Tyler, you said you’d explain,” his dad says in a slight sing-song tone once Tyler’s dished up enough food into a bowl for Josh, and once he has enough food on a plate for himself,  _and_ just before he lets his father take his place behind the counter to fix himself a plate.

“Uh…” Tyler leans over to whisper, “Should I start with the NA stuff?” which Josh nods yes to.

“Okay, okay. Last year on the seventeenth of July, Josh started going to NA, Narcotics Anonymous, again for the first time in probably five years. Like, I’ll be frank--shit was really bad as far as drug usage goes, no matter how bad neither of us don’t want to admit it. Anyways, January seventeenth marked six months sober, and you probably don’t wanna hear this, but long story short we were… participating in some extracurricular activities and I noticed a bump, on, uh…” Tyler gets flustered, and Josh cuts him off with a roll of his eyes.

“I was diagnosed with testicular cancer, and lost a nut because of it. Spent probably six weeks recovering from surgery, then another six weeks in radiation. I was too sick and too depressed to eat properly, so I dropped a ton of weight, so I’m just working on gaining it back.”

Tyler’s dad looks at Tyler, saying, “Why didn’t you come to me about any of this?”

“Because I was focused on making sure Josh was being taken care of properly, and calling you wasn’t the first thing I thought of. I’m telling you now, though, alright?”

His dad sighs, and looks at Josh to say, “I’m sorry, son. Sounds like you’ve had a rough year.”

Josh nods. “No shit.”

\---

Tyler’s father leaves around ten, and Josh helps Tyler clean the kitchen up, and helps him put leftovers away. As an offhand comment, but also as a hint to Tyler, he states, “I got the okay from my doctor to start having sex again after radiation.”

Tyler half smirks and chuckles a little bit. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m just saying, so long as I don’t over exert myself, I shouldn’t have any problems with having sex.”

Just as Tyler’s finishing putting the last of the leftovers away, he goes to stand behind Josh, standing on the tips of his toes, so he can whisper, “Wanna fool around?” into Josh’s ear.

Josh nods almost vigorously, and his voice is a little quieter than usual as he says, “I want you to top.”

Tyler doesn’t give him any shit, and just opts to nod in response to Josh’s request. “Alright. I can do that.” Tyler starts pressing kisses against Josh’s neck as he lets his hand move from the man’s hip to the area between his belly button and the top of his pajama pants before his slides his hand down far enough to where it’s inside Josh’s pants, palming him almost gently.

Josh wants to be frustrated at being so sensitive, but it’s to be expected after four months of literally nothing, aside from one or two hand jobs they’d given each other here and there. Josh moans a little loudly once Tyler’s starting to stroke his dick, and he instinctively just rolls his hips a bit, causing his ass to rub against the front of Tyler’s pants, and Josh lets out another noise at the feeling of another dick being pressed against one of his ass cheeks as Tyler leans around him to kiss him gently.

He lets Tyler lead him to the bedroom, and doesn’t protest in the slightest as Tyler’s tugging at his pajama bottoms and his shirt, requesting that he gets out of them. Tyler undresses himself while Josh does, and once either of them are completely naked, then, and only then, do they crawl onto the bed.

Tyler reaches into the bedside table for the lube and a condom before he’s back to leaning over Josh, rubbing his partner's arms in a way that’s hopefully encouraging. Josh is expecting Tyler just to get on with it, but the younger man doesn’t. Instead, he leans down, and just kisses him while one of his hands trail up and down Josh’s side, and the other props himself up. Josh has hands on either side of Tyler’s head, and, yeah, Tyler can definitely see that this is one hundred percent a trust thing.

He finds it a little amusing that one of the things they do to build trust is letting Tyler top. Josh had shared a few shitty experiences with bottoming, and shared that he puts a lot of trust in Tyler whenever the younger gets to top, and that, so far, Tyler hadn't disappointed him or betrayed him. Tyler intends to keep it that way.

Everything’s about Josh right now, and Tyler only gets to slicking his fingers up with lube when Josh had started whining a little bit.  _And I thought_ I  _was a needy bottom._ Josh’s chest heaves and he lets out a pretty loud moan when Tyler tucks two fingers into the man, and almost immediately finds his prostate in one go.

Tyler just attacks that spot in particular, and Josh just arches his back, keening and moaning and whining a little bit, before he’s hardly managing to get out a quick, “More,  _fuck,_ I need  _more,”_ before Tyler’s squirting a little bit more lube onto his fingers, sliding a third one in with ease. Josh whimpers, and lets out a chorus of  _‘fuck, fuck, fuck,’s_ before Tyler pulls his fingers out all the way.

“Oh,  _c’mon,_ you tease.”

Tyler makes eye contact with Josh while he unwraps the condom, and while he’s rolling it onto his own dick. “Be patient, Josh.”

Josh just sighs, and puts an arm over his eyes while Tyler’s positioning himself between Josh’s legs, wrapping them around his waist, as he slowly starts to push in. Tyler’s modest about the size of his dick, but he knows he definitely isn’t  _small,_ and that he’s  _definitely_ above average. Of course, he’s never going to be Josh, who is fucking  _massive,_ by the way, but he’s proud of himself once he bottoms out, because Josh is making some of the cutest noises ever as he’s getting used to the feeling of having a dick inside of him for the first time since September of the previous year.

Tyler goes to wrap his hand around Josh’s dick, but Josh stops him with a shake of his head. “Don’t. Want it to be just you.”

Tyler just says, “Alright,” before intentionally positioning himself to where the small bit of pudge on his lower stomach is definitely going to be rubbing against Josh’s dick every time he moves.

Josh knows he’s already ruined as soon as Tyler makes that so painfully slow first thrust, pushing back in just a little faster than he had before. Both of them moan, definitely feeling the over-sensitivity. Tyler just takes it slow for a while before he’s being told to go a little faster.

Honestly, Tyler really did have plans to be gentle with Josh, he did, but every time he’d pick up the speed, Josh would just beg him to go even faster, up until he was slamming in and out of the man with, literally, everything he had in him. Josh was moaning, loud and unashamed, even when he’d make high pitched noises that didn’t even seem possible for someone with a voice as deep as his.

Josh reaches his climax unexpectedly, and Tyler follows shortly after, due to the sensation of Josh clenching around him as he came.

Tyler flops onto Josh for a few minutes, before slowly pulling out, and peeling the condom off of himself to toss into the waste bin next to the bed. Josh sleepily gazes at Tyler, not having it in him to move, and he apologizes. “Didn’t mean to scratch your back up that bad.”

Tyler hushes him. “Don’t even start. I don’t mind it at all. I’ve scratched yours up pretty bad before too, and I’m bad about biting your shoulders, so seriously don’t worry. I kinda like the pain anyways.”

Josh nods, and yawns. “I don’t know if I can move.”

“For the record, I didn’t mean to go that… fast, or hard. You’re such a needy bottom, though,” Tyler teases with a small smile on his face.

Josh makes a face. “Shut up, asshole.”

Tyler just giggles, and goes about getting Josh under the blankets, before tucking himself into the man’s side, whispering, “I love you so much, Josh.”

Josh rubs his back, and mumbles, “I love you too, sweetheart,” back to him.

\---

Tyler breezes through finals, which is surprising since he missed classes for most of March and April since he was taking care of Josh, and since Josh will _always_ take precedence over school. Between driving him to appointments since he couldn’t do it himself, making him soups that he liked and bringing him Sprite to settle his stomach, spending numerous nights holding him since, whether or not Josh wants to admit it, he was terrified about what was to come, and just cuddling him since Tyler’s presence was oddly cathartic for Josh--between all of that, Tyler didn’t have time for school.

After Tyler’s last day for the semester, he forces Josh to get up bright and early, saying, “We’re going to the gym,” when Josh asks him what the fuck he’s doing.

They shower together, and Tyler lets Josh kiss him for a good ten minutes or so before he’s pulling away, saying, “We need to leave before it gets too hot outside, because we’re walking. No time for fucking in the shower.”

Josh makes a face but doesn’t argue with Tyler. He does, though, intentionally press his hips against Tyler’s when he reaches around him for the shampoo. Tyler groans because, of course, Josh is  _hard._ “Josh, you’re making it difficult for me to be a hard-ass right now.”

Josh places hands on Tyler’s hips, and pulls him even closer while he whispers, “Well, I have a  _hard_ dick, and you have a fucking spectacular  _ass.”_

Tyler snorts, because that was the first time Josh had said something raunchy like that in _months._ Tyler smiles and kisses Josh again after turning around. “And he’s  _back._ I kind of missed the unwarranted sexual remarks, and I never thought I’d be glad to have you hitting on me  _constantly._ ”

Josh smirks. “Sweetheart, you gotta get offa me. We have to leave soon, don’t we?”

“Oh,  _c’mon,_ I was so close to caving and letting you fuck me in here.” Tyler groans obnoxiously and Josh laughs softly.

\---

“I’m winded just from  _walking_ here,” Josh comments while Tyler’s filling out paperwork having to do with their gym memberships. “It’s pathetic.”

Tyler just muters, “You had cancer, J,” a little dryly before he flips the page over and scribbles down his signature. The person behind the desk isn’t paying attention to Tyler, so he forges Josh’s signature, knowing Josh probably would’ve complained about having to do paperwork outside of work. (Josh paid Tyler to do some of his paperwork for him at some point while he was doing radiation therapy, so Tyler’s basically mastered forging the man’s signature. Neither of them are sure on whether or not to count it as a blessing.)

Josh is in… a mood, today, as Tyler would describe it. He has days where he complains constantly, and Tyler doesn’t mind in the long run, but he does take precautions to prevent Josh from complaining in the first place, whether it be doing something beforehand before he gets a chance to complain, or just giving him a  _look._

Josh has a tendency to get himself worked up, Tyler has noticed. Okay, it’s hard to miss that bit of trivia, but when Josh starts complaining about things non stop, he starts getting  _anxious_ and frustrated about said things, and it just escalates from there.

\---

In the locker room of the gym, Josh catches sight of someone using steroids, which wasn’t really a shocker given most of the patrons of the gym were young gay men trying to achieve a certain body type, but it’s…  _triggering._

He spaces out for a minute, staring, up until Tyler is snapping his fingers in front of Josh’s face. “Earth to Josh.”

Josh bats Tyler’s hand away, and Tyler notices the subtle frown on his face. He isn’t going to ask Josh about it in a room with ten other people, but once they’re doing warm ups, Tyler approaches him about it. “What was your deal in the locker room? You totally spaced out, then you were doing the thing with your eyebrows.”

“I don’t know whether I should be grateful or creeped out that you know exactly what my eyebrows mean.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Don’t change the subject, and don’t tell me it was nothing. Also, sorry if I’m being annoying.”

“You aren’t being annoying, sweetheart,” Josh grunts as he attempts to do a stretch that shouldn’t be that hard for him. “Saw someone shooting steroids. It’ll probably bug me for a few hours, but I’ll get over it.”

“You wanna change the subject?” Tyler asks once Josh holds his arms out, signalling for Tyler to help him stand up.

Once he’s upright, he’s saying, “Yeah. Do we really have to talk while exercising though?”

“Why can’t we? I’m not going to be letting you do anything too extreme anyways.”

Josh rolls his eyes slightly, and Tyler follows him over to a row of indoor bikes. Tyler’s a little impressed and admittedly a little turned on while he watches Josh fiddle with the settings on one of the bikes before hoisting himself up to sit on the seat. Tyler climbs onto the one next to him, and asks, “What settings should I use?”

Josh reaches over, and presses a few buttons, saying, “Probably not too easy for you, but not too hard either.”

Josh takes it easy, as to not over exert himself, and when he notices that Tyler’s _actually_ going at it, even breaking a sweat, Josh says, “Quit showing off, dick.” Playfully, of course.

Tyler sticks his tongue out at Josh, earning him another roll of the eyes.

Tyler has a tendency to zone out whenever he exercises, and it’s part of the reason he’s underweight. Of course, though, this means that he doesn’t notice Josh stumbling off of the exercise equipment about twenty minutes after they started, and balancing on part of it with his head in his hands. How he doesn’t notice, Tyler probably won’t figure out. Ever.

Josh has to grab Tyler’s arm to get his attention, and Tyler jumps and is about to gently jab Josh in the arm for scaring him, but curses softly at his face, which is something that keeps happening more and more frequently.

Not cursing at how his face  _looks,_ because, let’s be real--Tyler thinks Josh is the most attractive and good looking man alive--but the look  _on_ his face isn’t a good one. Tyler takes a few seconds to get himself on the ground again and can barely hear Josh saying, “Tyler, I can’t breathe,” as he hyperventilates.

“What kind of can’t breathe? Asthma or panic attack?” Tyler’s keeping his voice down, even though usually he’d talk at a regular volume. There’s other people around, and he knows Josh doesn’t like it when Tyler draws attention to him.

Josh holds up two fingers, meaning the latter, so Tyler tugs him over to a corner in the gym that they can’t be seen from. “Do that breathing exercise I taught you, alright? In for four, and out for four.”

Tyler does the breathing exercise with him, counting with his fingers while Josh barely mouths the numbers to himself, until the older man isn’t hyperventilating, and doesn’t look like he’s two seconds away from bursting into tears. (Tyler’s internal monologue makes Josh seem overly dramatic, but, in reality, Josh is subtle and quiet and Tyler is just bad with words.)

“Did something happen or was it just out of nowhere?” He asks quietly as he brushes Josh’s hair, which is now a kind of coppery orange, mixed with his roots, out of his face.

He just shrugs, and mumbles, “Both,” after closing his eyes and letting his head tilt back against the wall that he’s leaning on slightly. “I woke up feeling off, and I can’t exercise like I used to, so I was beating myself up over that, then the steroids guy--Christ--I was such a fucking tweaker--but I used to use steroids when I was in my early twenties because I didn’t want to bother to work for my body--so  _that_ just reminded me of that and how pathetic I used to be.”

Tyler frowns slightly and reaches up with his hands to wipe tears from under Josh’s eyes. “Babe, you had cancer, and you lost like forty pounds of mostly muscle and whatever little body fat you had. No one’s expecting you to look like, as you’d like to call it, a lumberjack.”

“When did I ever…?”

“Morning after you took me home with you the first time. You were shaving off your beard, and you said you looked like a lumberjack.”

Josh cringes. “Oh, god. I was crashing so bad that morning. Surprised I can even remember it.”

“Anyways, listen--you’ve been clean for eleven months, alright? I don’t give a shit what you’ve done in the past, because this is  _now._ You haven’t even touched so much as a cigarette or even taken a sip of beer since July last year. Also, you need to let go of shit from your past. I mean, I’m twenty, and you’re turning thirty two next week, so I shouldn’t really be talking like I know something you don’t, but you just have to let go and quit beating yourself up over that shit. Like, whenever you start beating yourself up, all like, “Oh, look at that, I took/did insert whatever club drug or narcotic or psychedelic or whatever the fuck else here, and drank until I threw up,” correct yourself, and give yourself a pat on the back for kicking that shit and sticking to it for the longest you ever have. Like, you surpassed the two month expectation that Brendon was giving you, and you’ve already hit six months, and in another month it’ll be a year, so, I’m serious--Quit. Beating. Yourself. Up. Be proud of yourself.”

Josh just sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “Quit it. You’re supposed to  _not_ make me cry.”

“Listen… I’ll make a deal with you.”

“Yeah? What deal?” Josh’s tone betrays his intent. He’s trying to sound a little cocky, but he comes off as sounding sad and dejected.

“If you’ll promise me that you’ll start trying to build yourself up rather than beating yourself up,” Tyler stands on the tips of his toes, and holds onto Josh’s shoulders for balance as he whispers his continuation into the man’s ear; “When we get home, I’ll take my sweet time fucking you into the mattress, then I’ll cook you a kick ass dinner of whatever you want, and  _then,_ if you’re up for it, we can totally cuddle on the couch and watch whatever movie or show you want. Deal?”

Josh whines a tiny bit, and Tyler assumes it’s because he’s letting his imagination take over. “It’s a deal, I promise,” he whispers back, before Tyler grins and leads Josh to the showers so they can wash off and get home.

\---

Tyler splays his hands across Josh’s chest, and runs them down his chest until he’s lightly grabbing his hips. He’s just bottomed out, and he snaps his fingers quietly to get Josh’s attention.

Tyler almost laughs at how dilated Josh’s eyes are when he opens them and tilts his head up to look at Tyler. The man is basically the definition of promiscuity and provocativeness right now. He’s sweating slightly, and his hair is a mess just from Tyler’s habit of yanking on it when they kiss or whenever Josh goes down on him. His lips are  _red,_ and Tyler  _loves_ it since Josh’s lips are usually a pale pink, and his cheeks are flushed, which is a thing that’s only been happening recently. His dick, god, Tyler fucking loves it, and for a minute he wishes Josh was topping, but then the man adjusts his position, ripping a noise out of his throat. His dick is hard, and  _red,_ and is leaking just  _slightly_ with precum; it’s enough, at least, to leave a little puddle on his lower abdomen.

“How are you feeling? Like, you still okay with what’s happening…?” Tyler rubs his thumbs across part of Josh’s hips while he waits for an answer.

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back again, saying, “I don’t know how to describe how I’m feeling.”

“Is it good or bad? That’s a place to start.” They’re both whispering, and things just feel intimate right now.

“Good. It’s good. I feel small right now.”

“Small? You’re 6’2”, Josh.”

“Small is the only way I know how to describe it, dick. I feel safe too. Really safe.”

Tyler nods even though Josh can’t see him.

“It’s like… I trust you  _a lot_ and I depend on you a lot more than I should given I’m in my thirties but you’re  _safe_ and usually I’m stuck between wanting to protect you but also wanting you to protect me.”

“Why can’t we just protect each other?”

“We can. Anyways, I just… I feel like nothing can get to me when I’m with you, even if I’m in the middle of a panic attack.” Josh opens his eyes again and Tyler can tell he’s tearing up a little bit as the man gives him a loving look.

“You’re making it hard for me to want to fuck your brains out, man.”

Josh starts laughing, and wipes at his eyes a little. “What  _do_ you want to do then?”

Tyler’s honest when he says, “I wanna make love to you.”

Josh reaches for Tyler, motioning with his hands for the younger man to lean close and kiss him. And Tyler does. He kisses Josh, and it’s  _raw,_ and  _emotional_ , and after Josh whispers, “Move,” into the kiss, Tyler starts slowly rolling his hips, and their kissing turns into them gasping and panting gently against each other's lips.

\---

Tyler knows Josh won't ever say it, but he  _knows_ the man feels vulnerable, not to mention emotional, after they’re starting to come down from the sex. Tyler also knows that Josh probably won’t just fall asleep afterward like usual, so he decides to ask, “How come sometimes you act like a smug asshole and others you act like…  _meek?”_

“Anxiety,” Is what he mumbles into Tyler’s neck. “If I’m not anxious I’m totally smooth and outgoing, but if I’m anxious my brain just… fogs up, I guess, and it’s easier just to stare into space than to take charge in those situations.”

“Makes sense, I guess. Can I also ask why you call me ‘sweetheart?’”

“Because you’re a sweetheart and it’s just a gesture of intimacy. Do you want me to stop…?”

“No. I like it. It’s cute and it makes me all giddy when you  _do_ call me a sweetheart, because you always say it as if you aren’t even thinking about it.”

“You’re cute.”

“I got more questions. This one is a sex one. Why’d you suddenly just start acting soft? Or nice, I guess. I mean, you’ve always been  _nice,_ but sleeping with you felt really impersonal for the longest time.”

“I’m emotionally constipated. Or was. I think I still am a little bit. Sex just used to be a way to blow off steam for me. I think I told you I used to use it as a coping mechanism at some point. I’m better about expressing affection now, but I used to only know how to express it during sex. Just know, like, whenever I would take my time instead of rushing it, that was basically me indirectly being like, “Hey, Tyler, I love you, but I’m too prideful and stupid to actually say it.” At least now I’ll just tell you.”

“Enough of the emotional pow-wow because I’m gonna end up crying. I need to get around to making that meal I promised you. What d’ya want?”

“I… kind of really want an egg salad sandwich.”

“We don’t even have the things to  _make_ egg salad.”

“You have the keys to my car and one of my debit cards. Also, you promised.”

Tyler groans sarcastically, but gets up to get dressed anyways. “The  _lengths_ I go to just for you to be happy.”  
  
Josh just gives him a shit eating grin.

\---

Dallon calls Tyler’s phone while he and Josh are eating egg salad sandwiches in the living room. Tyler stares at his phone, then asks Josh if he should answer it. “I mean, we’re kind of… hanging out right now, and like, I know we hang out a lot, but I still like spending uninterrupted time with you.”

“Just answer it, sweetheart. It might be important.”

Tyler huffs and blushes, but flips his phone open and holds it between his shoulder and his ear, saying, “Hey, man.”

“Do you and Josh have any plans for his birthday?”

“Not really. We’re probably going to fuck once or seven times, but, like… Not really.”

Josh almost laughs, and mouths, “What the fuck?” at Tyler.

Tyler puts a finger up to his lips after setting his sandwich down on the plate he’s sharing with Josh.

“Okay, well, I know you guys sort of made up with Brendon, and I hope that’s not an issue, but I thought it’d be a good idea to go  _bowling._ Like, usually I’d suggest going to a bar or something, since it’s casual but still fun, but there’s alcohol, and I know Josh is like… Still working on that stuff, since he talks to me sometimes, and I don’t want him to be tempted or slip up or something.” Tyler glances at Josh as Dallon says this, slightly curious as to how their conversations go, but he knows not to pry, so he lets it go. “I like bowling, but if that isn’t your cup of tea we can figure something else out. If you wanna go, that is.”

“Uh. Lemme ask Josh. He’s sitting next to me.” Tyler puts his hand over the speaker on his phone to muffle his voice at least a bit. “Dallon wants to know if we want to go bowling for your birthday. Said something about bars probably not being a good idea, but that bowling was casual and fun enough.”

Josh immediately says, “No; find something else.”

“Josh said that he doesn’t want to go bowling, and to find something else.”

“Can I ask why? Usually he’s up for shit like that.”

“He wants to know why, J.”

Josh takes Tyler’s phone, and says, “My dad used to force me and my brother to go with him when he went bowling, and usually would get drunk, and him getting drunk meant getting beat, so no. I’m not going bowling.”

Josh hands Tyler’s phone back immediately after that, and Tyler confirms, that, “Josh gave me my phone back.”

“Alright. Well, my backup plan was to go see the new Dumb and Dumber movie, since it’s not too serious, and then going out to get something to eat after that,  _then_ hanging out at my apartment for a while so we can give Josh a few gifts for his birthday.”

“I think he’d appreciate that last part a lot, Dallon. I’ll run it by him really quick.” Tyler covers the speaker again while he regurgitates what Dallon had said. “He suggested seeing the new Dumb and Dumber movie, then going to get something to eat before going to his apartment to hang out for a while.”

Josh nods, saying it sounds good, so Tyler tells Dallon that.

“Awesome, alright, uh, the movie starts around two and ends between three thirty and four, so we’ll probably pick you up an hour beforehand if that’s alright…?”

“Sounds good, dude.”

“Awesome. I’ll seeya then.”

After that, the call ends, and Josh asks, “What did you mean by ‘that last part?’”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Is it something I should worry about…?”

“Dude, no. Don’t worry, it’s good. If it was something bad I would’ve shot him down immediately. Also, Dallon’s not the kind of guy to suggest bad things intentionally.”

\---

A few days before Josh’s birthday, the man is out with Patrick and Debby, organizing a few things having to do with the small office building he’d bought. Tyler’s pretty sure they’re having furniture put into the building, which means they’re probably going to be busy most of the day, so Tyler figures that that’s the day he’s going to get presents for Josh.

Usually he isn’t one for getting presents last minute, but he hadn’t had a chance to slip away from Josh without raising any suspicion. Josh had explicitly told him not to get him gifts, especially since he’s still not too keen on celebrating birthdays, but Tyler secretly insisted.

The first gift is one that he doesn’t have to leave the apartment for. He spends an hour or so rummaging through a few boxes before he finds a photo album, and a ribbon that he had for some godforsaken reason.

The photo album contains pictures from disposable cameras, mostly of him and a few of his high school friends (Ashley), but there’s a few pages of Polaroids of him and Josh. Those pictures mean the world to Tyler, and he knows that Josh doesn’t like sentimental gifts that much, but Tyler figures that Josh is going to assume the pictures are important to him, and that it’s taking a lot for Tyler to part with them.

There’s thirteen pictures in total. A few are the ones that his mother found in his backpack one day, then there’s one that Tyler just--he really likes it. It’s his favorite. In that picture, Josh had an arm around Tyler’s waist, and was giving him one of those stupid fucking looks that he always gives him, but what made it special to Tyler is that it was almost immediately after they’d met. (Like, three months, but still.) Tyler was talking to someone out of frame, and smiling, and one of his hands was visible on one of Josh’s shoulders. Basically, it’s an adorable picture, and Tyler gets giddy whenever he sees it.

His second favorite is the one where Josh is reading something on a piece of paper, and is ignoring Tyler, who was kissing him on the cheek and grabbing his ass. Tyler’s pretty sure it was Pete who’d gotten the picture, but Tyler doesn’t recognize where they were at. Either way, it makes him laugh.

There’s four of them just smiling at each other while talking. Or, well, Tyler was smiling, and Josh was subtly smirking, but Tyler knew he was at least a little happy talking to him. There’s another one where Tyler thinks Debby had been the one to have caught them holding hands.

Tyler’s currently just smiling fondly at them, and he smiles even wider at the two of the pictures where he’s side-eying the camera, and giving it a, “Fuck you,” look, while Josh sits oblivious next to him, stuffing his face with french fries. The one after it is Josh reaching towards the camera while Tyler’s ugly-laughing at the look that’d been on his face.

The last three aren’t candid. One is from Pride of them smiling. Josh wasn’t genuinely smiling, of course. His genuine smile involves teeth and him scrunching his face up a little bit. The one in the picture, though, was a closed mouth kind of smile, as if to say, “Why are you taking a picture of me? This isn’t even important.”

The second to last one, Tyler’s doing a peace sign, and making an ugly face, and Josh is just giving him one of those, “What the fuck?” looks.

Then, finally, the last one, they were smiling at each other sarcastically, and pulling some weird coupley pose, trying to prove some point to one of their friends. Tyler can’t even remember the point they were trying to make, but it was still cute.

He arranges them in a stack, with the most recent one being on top, and the oldest being on the bottom, then neatly wraps it with the ribbon, before placing the gift in one of the drawers that Josh had given him to use for his socks, underwear, and pajamas.

Before Tyler gets ready to leave the apartment to go buy gifts, he texts Josh.

 

 **Tyler:** what time r u going to be home???

 **Josh:** This evening, probably around eight. I’m going over to Deb’s to have dinner with her, Jenna, and Nathan. Why?

 **Tyler:** just wondering. I was gonna cook something but now i wont since you’re eating there

 **Josh:** Cool. I’ll see you then

 **Josh:** :) <3

 

Tyler snorts and totally doesn’t blush at the last message, and  _definitely_ doesn’t let out a small squeal.  _Fuck. He’s cute. I’m definitely fucked._

\---

Tyler walks to the nearest ATM, and withdraws a few thousand dollars from Josh’s bank account, just to make sure he had enough money just in case he found something expensive that he wanted to get for the man.

He places the bills in his wallet, and he’s twenty minutes into waiting for a cab when Josh texts him.

 

 **Josh:** Hey, asshole, I just got a call from my bank.

 **Josh:** Why’d you withdraw two thousand from my bank account?

 **Tyler:** grocery shopping & just shopping in general + I didn’t want to see the dent in mine.

 **Josh:** You don’t need two grand for grocery shopping. You could just use my card for that. Same with just general shopping.

 **Tyler:** i like using cash

 **Josh:** Mhm. I’m keeping my eye on you, sweetheart.

 **Tyler:** you getting onto me loses its meaning when you call me sweetheart by the way

\---

Tyler’s in a Prada shop in a mall, when he cracks and calls  _Brendon_ for the first time in, like, a year.

“Hi, Tyler,” is what he answers with. He doesn’t sound too happy, at least to Tyler, and the boy just figures that Brendon’s still trying to get used to being nice to him and trying to be friends.

“Hey, uh… You know Josh better than I do. What kind of gifts does he like…?”

“Anything expensive or sentimental. He’ll tell you otherwise, but trust me. He’s a label queen, and you know all those paintings on his walls? Those are all things people have gotten him as presents in the past. Hell, he even has an ugly fucking clock I got for him when we were, like, twenty two.”

“You’re the one responsible for that shit stain of a clock?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Anyways, I was, uh, just wondering. I’m at a Prada shop in a mall, and I found a pair of shoes that I think he’d like. Oh, shit, do you know his shoe size?”

“Eight in men’s. He has small feet.”

“Okay, thank you so much, dude. I appreciate it.”

The shoes Tyler gets makes him cringe. They’re fucking amazing shoes, and he can’t  _wait_ to see Josh wear them, since he knows he’s going to look hot as hell in them, but the price--God, the price. Tyler thanks god he withdrew two grand from Josh’s bank account, since the total ended up coming out to a little over a thousand.

Tyler uses a good three hundred on groceries, as to not raise suspicions, because he  _knows_ Josh would question him if he didn’t see any new groceries in the fridge or in any of the cupboards. And, lastly, he buys  _himself_ a new pair of shoes, since he needed a pair anyways, and a few pairs of pants, since he’d, somehow, manage to rip three out of the five pairs he’d already had. (Admittedly, though, the pants were five years old, so it wasn’t a surprise.)

\---

On the day of Josh’s birthday, Tyler wakes up before Josh, and since the man isn’t spooning him for once, Tyler gets an idea on how to wake him up. Usually he goes for kissing his face, but Tyler has different ideas as he slowly moves down the bed, under the blankets, settling himself between Josh’s legs. He thanks whatever higher power that might or might not exist that Josh’s bed is memory foam, meaning it doesn’t shift every time he so much as breathes. Also, Josh is a heavy sleeper anyways, and Tyler wonders how far he’s gonna get before Josh wakes up.

Josh is already a little hard before Tyler tugs his briefs down, just from having morning wood. Josh makes the slightest of noises when Tyler wraps his hand around his dick, and Tyler can hear him exhale when he gives the tip of his dick a tiny little kitten lick. Tyler starts slow, as to not wake him up, and only gets a few shallow bobs of his head in before he feels a hand gripping his hair, which causes him to let out a moan, before Josh is looking under the blankets.

Tyler knows what he’s about to get himself into (rough sex, most likely) by what he says next, intentionally looking up at Josh, trying to come off as attractive as he possibly can. “Happy birthday…  _Daddy.”_

Josh inhales loudly, letting out a, “Jesus fucking Christ, Tyler,” seconds before Tyler moves his head back down a few inches to take the head of his partner’s cock into the wet and white hot heat of his mouth. The older man just lets his head fall back against his pillow as he moans, but apparently an idea pops into his head, because he’s pulling Tyler off of his dick again, this time with both of hands gripping the boy’s hair, saying, “I wanna fuck your mouth.”

Tyler smirks, because, honestly, that’s one of the things he was going for. He has no idea why  _he_ gets pleasure out of getting his mouth fucked, but he does, and it’s exactly what he’s in the mood for right now.

Tyler’s the one to pull the blanket off of both himself and Josh, but Josh is the one to get up from the bed after sliding his briefs the rest of the way off, and he’s the one who leans over to whisper, “Can I be rough with you?” into Tyler’s ear.

“God,  _yes,”_ Tyler says back with a groan.

Josh doesn’t need anymore encouragement after that, or so Tyler assumes, since he finds himself being pulled over  _by his hair_ to the area on the floor in front of a blank section of wall that Josh presses himself against. He bites his lip, and whimpers slightly, out of arousal, when Josh bluntly states, “God, you’re such a  _slut._ You couldn’t even wait for me to wake up before trying to suck me off.”

Tyler lets his jaw fall slack when his head is being yanked forward, and Josh is easing his dick into the boy’s mouth, and, eventually, his throat. The only thing that Tyler had gained from slutting it up at Atlantis and a few of the other clubs was his lack of a gag reflex. When he was first seeing Josh, he could barely get half of the man’s dick in his mouth before it’d hit his tonsils, easily making him gag. Now, though, he can feel his nose brushing against Josh’s freshly trimmed pubes, and the only thing that’s impairing him is the fact that he can’t breathe around a dick.

Josh pulls out long enough for Tyler to get in a few breaths, before Josh is running his hand through the younger’s hair and almost gently rolling his hips into his mouth. It goes on like that, slow, sweet, and gentle, but Josh is gradually picking up the pace, growing rougher and rougher, groaning at the feeling of Tyler’s fingernails digging into the back of his thighs.

He doesn’t last more than a five minutes before he’s muttering, “Close your eyes,” and pulling out, working himself quickly, shooting his load across Tyler’s face.

Tyler waves his hand in the direction of the nightstand, saying, “Hand me a tissue,” in a  _very_ weak voice. Josh doesn’t hand him the tissue, but instead drops to the floor in front of him, wiping his face off, gently, himself. Josh wads the tissue up and tosses it, with perfect aim, into the waste bin. Tyler sighs and opens his eyes a little bit, immediately focusing on Josh.

“How’s your throat?”

Tyler swallows and coughs a little bit before answering. “Sore. You should go make me tea while I shower.”

“You, uh, you want me to take care of your problem first?” Josh looks down at Tyler’s dick, which is currently forming a tent in his boxers.

Tyler nods, and Josh adjusts his position to allow Tyler into his lap before he snakes a hand into his boxers, and works his cock as good as he possibly can. Tired and still coming down from the high of an orgasm or not, Josh refuses to give Tyler a shitty handjob. The least he can do is make it a good one.

Tyler rests his forehead against Josh’s shoulder, letting out the cutest sounds, and Josh squeezes his thigh a bit as he continues to jerk him off. Tyler comes with a slight whine a few minutes later, and Josh kisses his neck a few times before whispering, “You did so good, sweetheart. Also, I don’t think you’re a slut.”

Tyler nudges Josh slightly with one of his hands. “I know you don’t, J.”

Josh huffs. “You know I love you, right?”

“You tell me at least once a day. Like, I know.”

Josh smiles softly, and grunts as Tyler has to help him up again. “The day my fucking muscles can hold up my body better come soon.”

Tyler yawns and shoos Josh off, saying, “Tea. Now.”

\---

Tyler’s sitting on the bed in just a pair of jeans, one of the pairs he’d bought a few days prior, fiddling with the stack of Polaroids, staring at it fondly, but also anxiously, hoping Josh doesn’t get mad at him for giving him a gift. Josh comes into the room at some point with Tyler’s favorite kind of tea, and a small bowl of reheated stew. Josh sets the cup and the bowl on the table next to the bed, then asks, “What d’ya got there, buddy?”

Tyler sighs, and quietly says, “I know you said no gifts, but, uh, these are all the Polaroids I have of us together, and they mean a lot to me, so I wanted you to have them. I know it’s dumb.”

“Uh. Geez.” Josh furrows his brows and scratches the back of his head. “I think I can make an exception. This--uh--this is really sweet, Tyler. Fuck.”

He’s gentle as he takes the stack from Tyler, and he slowly unties the ribbon before sitting down on the bed next to Tyler. He goes through them, and says, “I look like shit in these.”

Tyler gets him in the leg with his foot as he takes the tea from the bedside table. “You do not. Also, would ya be mad if I hypothetically also bought you two other gifts…?”

“Is that why you took two grand from my bank account, you shithead?” Josh doesn’t mean anything by the name, and Tyler can tell from his tone.

“Yeah.”

“I want whatever change you have leftover,” He says before he goes back to looking at the pictures.

“There’s only about ninety bucks.”

“Jesus--what did you buy?” Josh asks incredulously, and Tyler can tell that he’s starting to get a little annoyed.

“Uh. Can I show you…?” Tyler asks

Josh sighs and signals for him to go ahead. Tyler reaches under the bed, and pulls out two neatly wrapped boxes. “One was over a grand and the other was a little over a hundred. Also, I bought myself a few pairs of jeans, since I only had like two pairs, but I’ll pay you back for those.”

Josh opens the bigger one first, and Tyler can see him perk up when he sees  _PRADA_ printed on the top of the box. “Brendon told me your shoe size and I thought those would look good on you.”

Josh opens the box and smiles very slightly. “They’re nice. Real nice.”

“You have small feet, by the way.”

“I make up for it in dick size,” He says totally casually as he rips wrapping paper from the smaller box.

Tyler recovers from his fit of quiet giggles pretty quickly. “I went to some luxury shop in the mall and asked a few people to give me suggestions, since you said something about wanting to dye your hair pink awhile back.”

“I’ll--uh--I’ll talk to Pete. He dyed my hair last time. And I’ll try to wear something… semi-formal to go with the shoes. Um. Thank you. Seriously. I’m sorry I’m a dick about presents.”

“I’m sure you have reasons, so don’t sweat it I guess. I just--I wanted to do something nice.”

Josh leans forward and kisses Tyler’s forehead before giving him a one armed hug. “I never had any good holidays growing up.”

“Mom tended to ruin Christmas and Thanksgiving, so I understand that.”

“You know how my nose is a  _little_ crooked?” Josh asks as he detaches himself from Tyler.

“Yes. I’m quite a fan of your nose. I like it. It’s a good nose.”

Josh rolls his eyes and calls Tyler a weirdo. “Anyways, my nose used to  _not_ be a little crooked. I usually bullshit and say it was a skateboard accident, since I used to be really into that so it was believable, but my dad had one too many on New Year's Eve when I was like fifteen, and me, being the smart ass I am, mouthed off, and got socked in the nose. I now have a deviated septum and can’t breath properly. It’s also part of why I snore. Point is, shit like that happened every holiday and birthday and I just hate celebrating them.”

“What a piece of shit.” Tyler frowns. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him.”

“Why do you like holidays?” Josh asks. He’s honestly curious. “I dunno; I just never got it.”

“I just like spending time with people who are important to me. I don’t really care about presents or following customs, though. A lot of people do, but it’s not about that for me. I do get presents for people on Christmas, but that’s about all I do.”

“Oh. Surprisingly I’ve never thought about it like that. Like, I mean, I know that stuff is important, but you know, right?”

Tyler nods. “Anyways, as much as I love having deep conversations with you, Dallon’s going to be here in a few hours, so  _you_ should shower and get dressed while I finish the tea and the stew.”

Josh huffs. “Sorry about your throat. Again.”

Tyler brushes him off. “I like it when you’re rough with me. Don’t worry.”

Once Josh is in the shower, Tyler repositions himself on the bed so he can finish the stew while also being comfortable. It’s good, and he picks out the bits of pork before drinking what was left of it. He ends up dozing off from not having anything to do, only being woken up by Josh tapping him a few times, saying something about needing him to finish getting dressed.

Tyler goes through his side of the closet, settling on a button up that he tucks into his skinny jeans. Tyler isn’t sure on why he bought them, other than the fact they compliment his ass nicely. He leaves the bedroom to go find a pair of shoes to wear, and when he passes by the living room, he sees dark, almost black clouds through the large, ceiling to floor windows, and groans to himself.

Meanwhile, Josh is in the bedroom still, and he settles on a fitted pair of slacks, a decent blazer, a button up, and then a tie. He looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. He looks like he’s some stiff businessman. Of course, he kind of is a businessman, but he’s still resentful at the fact that he looks a little boring. He doesn’t change, though, because the outfit totally makes the shoes Tyler had gotten him look awesome.

He retraces his steps into the bathroom, and goes through a drawer until finding a comb and a can of aerosol hairspray. He usually doesn’t bother with hairspray, but he can’t have bed head/sex hair if he’s wearing something fancy. It’s just a pet peeve of his. Added, he looks good with his hair combed back anyways.

He does look a little weird, in his opinion. His clothes run a little big on him for obvious reasons (his weight) but, hey, he’s still hot, so what does it matter?

Tyler’s walking back into the bedroom the same time as Josh steps out of the bathroom, and Josh almost laughs, out loud, when Tyler makes some wildly sexual noise, and saying, “You cannot wear that today. I can’t decide on if I should drop to my knees or if I should follow my dreams of working my way to success on my back.”

Okay, Josh does giggle a bit at Tyler. “Too bad. I’m wearing it.”

“Okay, what I’m here for--it looks like it’s going to rain, and I’m assuming it’s gonna be cold, so can I wear one of your jackets?”

“You don’t gotta justify yourself, sweetheart,” Josh remarks as he walks across the room to look through the part of the closet where he keeps his jackets.

“Oh, and now you’re calling me sweetheart. It’s like you  _want_ me to just give myself up to you.”

“Keep it in your pants, Tyler. We can fool around when we get home this evening.” Josh sees his wool coat, and pulls that out for himself, not wanting to risk getting too cold himself.

He struggles finding something that’d look good on Tyler up until he sees his varsity jacket from when he was a senior in high school. He takes it off the hanger and hands it to Tyler, who raises his eyebrows, but takes it anyways.

He looks at the back of it, and smirks when he sees Josh’s last name on it in white lettering that looks so,  _so_ good in contrast to the red wool part of it. He examines the front next, and sees the patch that was on the varsity jackets for  _his_ high school, and says, “Huh. We went to the same school. Interesting.”

Josh rolls his eyes and tells him to try it on to make sure it fits. It’s honestly way too big for him, but he refuses to take it off, and Josh has to admit that he looks kind of adorable, especially after he buttons it.

“Jesus, Josh--how big were you in high school?”

“I was a quarterback, and about as big as I was before I started radiation. Also, I think my picture for some record I broke is still up in the awards display.”

“What record?” Tyler asks, suddenly looking intrigued.

“Most touchdowns scored in a game, and most touchdowns scored in a season. I was offered a full ride to Ohio State, but I’d already done a ton of shit to prepare me to major in advertising. Also, football is just something I did so I had an excuse not to go home.”

“Man, you get cooler and cooler every time you tell me a story.”

“Oh, shut up. My life in high school was  _boring,”_ comes Josh’s reply as he steps past Tyler.

“Listen, man, I was the resident artsy fag of my school, so basically anything sounds better than that to me.”

“I was in my straight phase when I was doing football. Like, how stereotypical is my life?” He asks the last part as he pulls a jug of cranberry juice from the fridge.

Tyler barks out a laugh, and Josh internally melts at how he laughs with his entire body. “You?  _Straight?_ I can’t imagine it.”

“I think it was more experimental, honestly. Like, I’m gay and I’ve always known, but I wanted to make sure. I was dating Debby for two years. Listen--it was so bad. Like, she’s lovely, and important to me I guess, but I got grossed out at the thought of having sex with a girl, like, so grossed out that I told her I was saving it for marriage.”

Tyler laughs even harder. “You--you’re such a  _manwhore,_ though.”  
  
“Vaginas make my dick floppy, what can I say?”

\---

Josh and Tyler stand huddled together in front of the apartment complex, since it was, in fact, pretty nippy outside, especially considering it was June.

Tyler shifts a little anxiously, and Josh mentally laughs bitterly since, lately, he’s usually the anxious one, and Tyler’s usually the stable and dependable one. Josh hates depending on him for emotional support, but Tyler’s the only person he completely trusts. He trusts Dallon, and usually goes to him whenever he’s at a point to where he wants to  _slip up_ , since, although encouraging, Tyler doesn’t  _quite_ get it, whereas Dallon has five years of heroin addiction and HIV under his belt. He knows Tyler’s experimented with a few drugs before, and that he did drink but mostly in the rebellious teenager kind of way, but he doesn’t, like,  _quite_ get it, like Josh had said.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Tyler linking elbows with him and standing even closer, asking, “Do you think Brendon’s still okay with us being together…?”

“He said he’d try. If he says anything, I’ll talk to him.”

“What if he starts being a dick with me?”

“If he does, I’ll chew him out, and I’ll defend you like I usually do, okay? Don’t get yourself worked up over it, sweetheart.”

Tyler sighs and leans on Josh a little bit. “My anxiety’s acting up.”

“Did you take your meds this morning?” Josh asks, looking down Tyler.

“I forgot. We don’t have time to go get them.”

“There’s always time, Tyler. If they show up while you’re taking them, and if they complain, then fuck ‘em. I’d rather you be a little late and calm rather than working yourself up over little things. That last part is my job.”

Tyler sighs and nods. “You’re right. Y’know, you’re really good at being a good boyf--I mean…  _partner.”_ Tyler squints, carefully, at Josh.

Josh nudges him with his elbow. “Calm down, Homeo. We can talk about relationship stuff later. Go take your meds. I’ll wait.”

Tyler stands up on the tips of his toes to peck Josh on the cheek before using his key card to get back into the building.

Josh taps a beat on the insides of his coat pockets, and hums, probably a tune or something from one of Tyler’s songs, since those are about all he listens to aside from a few obscure bands from the seventies and eighties.

Tyler ends up getting back outside within a few minutes, and he comes bearing Josh’s wallet plus his keys. “I had to use the bathroom and saw them on your dresser.”

“Christ, I rarely forget these,” Josh mutters as he takes them from Tyler.

They stand there for another ten minutes, and Josh finally musters up the nerve to ask a question that’d been bugging him for a while. “Do you think it’s weird that I’m suddenly, like… acting normal?”

“What do you mean?” Tyler furrows his brows.

“Like, relationship wise, I  _know_ I’m more affectionate, and I wanted to know if it put you off at all.”

Tyler shrugs. “Not really. I mean, I like the affection, trust me, but I mostly just care if you’re comfortable. If you’re comfortable with making me gag just from being so…  _sweet,_ then so be it. I just like that you don’t close yourself off or bottle things up as bad as you used to.”

“Sorry--it’s just--after I got diagnosed with cancer it scared the fucking shit out of me, and it was like… a wake up call. Because there was a chance I could’ve died, still. And when I was in my hotel room after the biopsy, I like… I didn’t get the prescription they gave me, because prescriptions were part of my deal with why I went to NA and stuff, so not only was I lucid, I constantly felt like someone was kicking me in the nads. Anyways, I had time to… think.”

“Bout what?”

“Life, you, and a bunch of other petty shit. I had some dumb epiphany, like, I asked myself why the hell I wasn’t just doing what I wanted, and living. Like--I dunno. I wasted so much of my life dicking around and  _not_ doing things, aside from reckless shit and fucking my brains out on an almost daily basis.”

“How does that involve me, though?”

“You do realize you’ve lived with me almost constantly for about three years, right? And we’re practically connected at the hip, so I think it’s safe to say that we like… I dunno. It sounds stupid.”

“I like stupid, J.”

Josh avoids eye contact and scrunches his face up a bit before continuing. “We share our lives with each other, I guess, and after my little accidental confession, I just--after that and after the biopsy, I just asked what the hell I was doing by  _still_  trying not to let myself get too attached to you, when I could very well be  _dead_ by the end of the year. Like, I thought about all the affection shit, and I’m usually too prideful or afraid of sounding stupid to say it, but I  _wanted_ affection, as much as  _I’m_  trying to show you without going overboard, like, I want that, and I just thought it was dumb that I was holding back and hesitating.”

“You don’t sound stupid, Josh.” Tyler stands in front of Josh and wraps his arms around the man’s waist, hugging him. It’s not a tight hug, but rather gentle. “It’s normal to want shit like that, and I ain’t judging you or anything because of it. I mean, that’s not love, if I were to judge you or criticize you over something like that.”

“I think this is the third time I’ve this today, but, like, do you  _know_ how much I fucking love you? Holy shit.”

Tyler looks up at Josh with a sort of shy grin. “Even if you didn’t, I’d know, because I’m a spectacular person.”

“Cocky shit,” Josh mutters with a dumb grin and a shake of his head.

Tyler sighs, obnoxiously. “Learned it from you, J.”

Tyler ends up standing on his toes again to press one of his usual gentle kisses against the man’s lips, and Josh returns it as he takes his hands out of his pockets so he can brush Tyler’s slightly overgrown hair out of his face, and so he can put the other one on the back of his neck.

They kiss for a bit, until there’s a quick beep of a car horn, making either of them jump. Tyler looks back, sort of mortified that both Dallon and Brendon got an eyeful of a moment that was supposed to be private and intimate (not sexually) between himself and Josh.

Josh just nudges Tyler towards the car, and he opens the door for him before walking around to the other side to sit himself behind Dallon. Josh isn’t used to…  _not_ being in a sports car, his, specifically, and it takes everything in him not to comment about the lack of leg space in the back seat. Josh notices that Tyler sits Indian-style in the back seat before buckling his belt, and if Josh weren’t thirty two or wearing slacks, he’d do the same thing.

Tyler plays Snake on his phone while Dallon’s driving to whichever movie theater they were seeing the new Dumb and Dumber movie. Josh picks at his fingernails, and jiggles his leg up and down until Dallon makes eye contact with him through the mirror to tell him to knock it off. Brendon’s reading a fucking magazine, which leaves Josh befuddled because  _why_ does he just casually have a magazine with him? Aside from driving, Dallon’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat on the radio.

The song ends, and no one in the car realizes what’s happening until the vocals in the next song start. Josh’s head shoots up and snaps towards his partner, and Tyler stares, wide eyed at the radio, realization dawning on him, and quietly says, “Holy shit. That’s me.  _Fuck, Dallon, turn it up!”_ Tyler’s reaching into the front seat to whack Dallon’s arm numerous times, and after a slightly dirty look, he cranks the volume.

Josh smiles pretty freaking wide, and laughs out of shock, and tries not to get too distracted by the sudden burst of  _pride_ that spreads over his chest. Tyler’s yelling his own lyrics, and smiles wide enough that Josh is pretty sure his face is going to break as the twenty year old reaches over to Josh to shake him out of excitement.

The lyrics are sad, tragic even, but Tyler’s just singing and rapping along with it, smiling, not even caring about what the lyrics mean to him, because,  _holy shit,_ he’s on the radio. Of course, it’s a small station, but  _still._ That’s  _him._

Tyler ends up yanking Josh forward into an excited kiss that lasts a second or two too long, but only a second or two, because he has to pull away since the second verse is starting, and since he has to yell along while also occasionally saying, “Holy shit,” between lines.

When the song ends, and after the volume gets turned back down, Tyler pulls Josh across the back seat basically so he can hug him tight. Josh hugs back with just as much vigor, and whispers, “Proud of you, sweetheart,” into Tyler’s ear.

Tyler just giggles a bit before pulling back far enough to kiss the older man on the lips, again, for a few seconds. Tyler would’ve kissed Josh longer, but they aren’t alone, so he figures he’s going to have to save it for the evening when they went home.

\---

The movie is kind of boring, and dumb as the title suggests, Tyler decides within ten minutes. Josh is already trying to get Tyler’s attention by kissing his neck and trailing a hand up and down the boy’s thigh, so once Tyler loses interest in the movie, he shifts his attention to Josh by grabbing the man’s wrist, whispering, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to make out with you since this movie is boring,” He whispers back before his tongue darts out to lick Tyler’s neck a bit. Tyler jumps, and squeaks very slightly, obviously not expecting there to suddenly be a tongue on his sensitive neck.

He turns his head and puts his other hand on Josh’s chest to push him away and over to his side of the armrest so he can adjust his position, and so he can put the armrest up, making it easier to pull Josh back over by the tie he’s wearing to kiss him rather deeply. Tyler can hear someone coughing, and he assumes it’s either Dallon or Brendon, trying to get them to stop, but that’s definitely not happening, especially not when Josh’s hand is still on Tyler’s thigh, inching it’s way dangerously close to his dick, but never quite touching it.

Their lips move together in tandem, and Josh’s hand ghosts over the front of his jeans as the man goes to places his hand on the back of Tyler’s neck. They haven’t really made out that much over the course of their relationship, and usually when they do it only lasts ten minutes, at the most, before they’re crawling into bed with each other.

This time, it’s slow, since they can’t really fuck in a movie theater, and Josh takes his time as he starts to tease Tyler. Of course, that prompts Tyler to challenge him, because  _two can play at that game._

Twenty minutes later, Brendon is scoffing softly from his place at the other end of the row in front of Josh and Tyler’s, and leans over to whisper, “They’re kind of gross,” into Dallon’s ear when he sees Josh’s hand going down the front Tyler’s pants.

Dallon looks, and makes a soft  _‘pft’_ noise. He whispers, “Let ‘em live; they’re still in their honeymoon phase,” into Brendon’s ear.

“A three year honeymoon phase?”

“It’s the first serious relationship either of them have been in, man. If they want to maul each other in a movie theater, then so be it; nothing’s going to stop them.”

Brendon estimates it’s another twenty minutes later when curiosity gets the best of him and he turns his head to see that Tyler and Josh are  _gone._ He pats Dallon on the arm, and tries not to laugh, saying, “I think they went to go fuck in the bathroom.”

Dallon looks over to their vacant seats and has to subtly cover his mouth in an attempt to be quiet. “How would that work? You’d figure it’d be messy.”

“Josh  _always_ carries a condom and a packet of lube with him, and I’m assuming that hasn’t changed.”

“They… They have an impressive sex life.”

Brendon huffs and half grins before he rests his head on Dallon’s shoulder, and before Dallon reaches for his hand.

\---

“It’s been awhile since we’ve fucked in a public bathroom,” Tyler, says, out of breath, as he hurries while trying to both get his shirt tucked back into his pants while zipping and buttoning them back up. He buttons up Josh’s varsity jacket, and looks himself over in the mirror of the bathroom, running his hands through his hair a few times.

“I think last time was over a year ago. Christ.” Josh buckles his belt while saying this, and tugs both his blazer and his wool coat back on. “It was better than watching a shitty movie, right?”

“God, yeah. I would rather get fucked than watch Dumb and Dumber or any movies associated with it any day. At least with you, I’m not left disappointed.”

“At least with  _me,_ you’re left with a sore ass and a few hickeys.”

“Oh, you fucker,” Tyler says as he whirls around to look in the mirror again. Sure enough, on the side of his neck there’s a red and purple looking mark, only about half covered by the collar of the jacket. “Why do you always give me hickeys when we’re supposed to be doing, like, social things?”

“I get a sick sense of satisfaction from watching you squirm,” Josh deadpans. “Anyways, the movie is probably over, so we should leave before Forehead and The Professor ditch us,” Josh says as he grabs Tyler’s hand, linking his fingers with the younger’s.

“Forehead and The Professor? Really?” Tyler’s smiling.

“You’ve seen Brendon’s forehead. You could write an essay on it.”

“That’s… a very specific analogy.”

“It’s the first thing I thought of. Bite me.” Josh bumps into Tyler with his shoulder, and leads him out of the bathroom.

\---

The rest of Josh’s birthday goes smoothly. They go out to eat at a Chinese restaurant, and Tyler tries his best to have a conversation with both Dallon and Brendon, since Josh isn’t talking a whole lot. He usually doesn’t talk unless he has something to say, and although Tyler appreciates that sometimes, it’s difficult trying to make small talk for the hour it takes them all to eat.

They go to Dallon’s apartment, and Josh grumbles a little bit when the two of them give him presents, but he shuts up and says, “Thank you,” when Tyler elbows him in the arm.

\---

Tyler's usually the one to bombard Josh when they need to have a talk, but this time it's Josh who corners him in the kitchen, arms crossed, leaning against the arch, saying, "I said we'd talk about relationship stuff when we got home, and we're home."

"You said we  _can,_ not that we would," Tyler corrects as he takes a bottle of pomegranate flavored vitamin water.

"Same difference. I'm going to ask the same questions that we usually ask--what do you want out of this?"

"Love and support?"

"You've already got that from me. I'm just assuming something changed since you called me your boyfriend this morning."

Tyler shrugs as he opens the bottle and takes a sip. "Not really. It was a slip up. I usually call you my boyfriend when I talk to other people aside from our usual group. I have friends, y'know."

"I know you do."

"Let me ask you--what do  _you_ want?"

"You."

"How specific of you, Josh."

"Tyler, listen, I want everything that you'd usually get in a relationship. Except, now, I think that  _I_ might be the one who wants something... serious." His face softens and he looks less like he's interrogating Tyler, but more like he's asking him something. Which he kind of is.

"So you don't want to be in an open relationship...?" Tyler looks more or less confused, if anything.

"I'm still not promising that, Tyler, because I know that if I did, I'd end up breaking that promise."

"We're already pretty serious, Josh. We live together, we offer each other emotional support, and just support in general, we're starting to fuck on a regular basis again, and like... You know. Isn't that what relationships are? Just... being there for each other? I don't think it can get anymore serious than what we have without you forcing yourself, which I don't want you to do, or getting  _married,_ which we couldn't do anyways since it isn't legal here. Also, no, I don't want to marry you. Just want to clarify. Anyways, I don't think we were ever casual in the first place. We fucked around for a few months before you basically asked me to be your boyfriend, but without the label, and it's been like that for two and a half years."

"Okay. Uh. For some reason I thought that we were still, like... Not that serious."

"Josh, we've literally admitted that we're in love with each other, and we've been through a bunch of tough shit, what with me almost dying, you going to NA, you getting  _cancer,_ and, now, you're about to get the ball rolling on starting your own company or whatever the hell you called it, and I have no plans of leaving you then either, unless you do something especially shitty, but even then I couldn't imagine anything more than me being a little pissy with you for a few months."

"I'm kind of stupid, if you couldn't tell."

"You're not stupid. Just... dense, sometimes. Anyways, I'm going to finish this shitty vitamin water, then I'm going to go to bed, because I have a few appointments tomorrow, then I have to go talk the one guy about the microphones he's selling on Craigslist, just to make sure they're good, since the ones I use are kind of shitty."

"You could've just asked me to buy you a new microphone, Tyler," Josh says as he follows his partner to where he's heading to sit in the living room.

"I want to do this on my own, alright? I appreciate the support, I do, but I still like doing things on my own, without your help."

"Understandable, I guess."


	4. Part IV

_**Part IV** _

_**Words: ~40,000** _

_**Chapters 34-44** _

_**\---** _

In a way, Josh wishes his physical health was still bad enough to where he didn’t have the time or energy to work on _hiring_ people and finding clients, but, on the other hand, his savings wouldn’t last forever, especially with as much as he’s been spending lately, so he _really_ needs to get the ball rolling on this company before he ends up dick deep in debt. (Which wouldn't take too long, unfortunately.)

He spends a week traveling all over fucking Columbus, Cincinnati, and Cleveland, meeting with some of the clients he’d worked with at his last job. A few are skeptical and turn his offer down right off the bat, a few accept his offer immediately, and a few take the time to get their ducks in a row before giving him an answer.

After hiring a few graphic design majors, along with a secretary, things start getting both busy and sort of intense. He estimates it’s around October when he realizes that, yeah, he’s definitely not going to last much longer on his savings. By that, he means that Patrick literally sits him down in his office, and bluntly says, “If you don’t get more clients, or if you don’t manage to pull some fucking miracle out of your ass, you’re going to be screwed. You’re overspending, and I get that it’s necessary, but you need to figure something out.”

That’s how he finds himself up around midnight on a Wednesday, sitting on his couch with one knee pulled to his chest, and the other dangling off of the couch almost haphazardly, trying to debate on whether or not he should try approaching the fat-cat politician who’d been trying to talk him into running his political campaign a year previous.

He’s close to working himself into a panic attack around the time Tyler steps into the living room, looking tired as hell, saying, “Dude, come to bed. It’s late, you have work, and I have class.”

“I won’t be able to sleep. Got too much shit in my head,” He mumbles back as he lets his head fall down far enough to where he can press his palm against his forehead.

Tyler sighs almost silently before walking around the couch to sit in front of Josh. He takes his partner’s hand away from his face, and holds it in his own hands, saying, “Do you want to talk about it? I’m pretty good at listening.”

“I know you are. It’s just--I’m spending _way more_ than I’m making right now, but I can’t fire anyone or downsize, because everything is small as hell right now as it is. Patrick said I have to either pull something out of my ass, or I’m gonna be screwed. If this shit doesn’t pan out I won’t have _any_ money left, meaning I can’t pay for everything that I’m supposed to be paying for outside of work.”

“Did you have any plans in mind? Like, what you could do…?”

“The politician. Do you remember me telling you about him?”

“I think, yeah. Mr. Moneybags? The conservative one?”

“Yeah, that guy. He was offering me a grand total of two million if I ran his political campaign. I don’t know if I _can,_ though. I don’t agree with any of the shit he spews about queers and minorities, and he's gunning for governor! It one takes one push to push down a line of dominos. But... two mil--I can’t just pass that up.”

“Is it absolutely necessary, though? Like, if you didn’t do this, would you be screwed?”

“I’d be screwed. Really screwed.”

“I know how you are with work. I know you’re good at your job, and I know that, for the most part, you’re good at not letting your personal opinions get in the way of your job. Although I don’t personally think you should help that fascist, I think that you shouldn’t cripple yourself just because you don’t agree with him. There’s a difference between personal and professional. Whatever you choose, I’ve got your back, so that’s at least one vote of confidence.”

Josh just nods, and shifts his position until he can pull Tyler into his lap, and until he’s able to wrap his arms around his lover, eyes closed, nose breathing in his scent. Tyler doesn’t smell like anything spectacular. He smells a little bit like armpit mixed with sports deodorant, and Josh figures he hadn’t showered that morning. The way his hair smells a little like lavender from his shampoo is somehow comforting to him, and he knows that if he were to admit that something weird like that comforted him, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Actually, Josh figures that Tyler would probably find it cute, or maybe a little funny. He just doesn’t want to admit that he’s _that_ soft. “J? I can hear you over-thinking. You still have a few months to decide.”

“Everyone’s going to have a _fit_ if I say yes, but I really don’t know what else to do. I’m good at my job, I am, I know I am, but I can’t compete with the place I used to work at, at least not now. If I don’t get the politician, my best bet is trying to steal their clients. Which I’ve been trying to do. Just… No one’s saying yes.”

“Don’t you have a ton of business friends, though? Why haven’t you talked to any of them?”

“Don’t want to impose.”

“Josh, you’re the one who told me that everyone has to play dirty to be successful. Now’s the time to play dirty. I know you’re good at manipulating people to get what you want when it comes to business.”

“This shit was easier to do when I was using, because I couldn’t fucking _feel_ anything, and I was pissed off all the time.”

“You were unhappy, though, and ultimately, it’s why you got fired, so don’t even think about it. Talk to Dallon, since he's your NA sponsor, or your therapist if you’re tempted. Or talk to me, even though I probably won’t be too much help.”

“I’m not tempted, but I kinda miss it sometimes. You have to consider that was the only thing I knew from the time I was eighteen to a little over a year ago. I don’t know how to _live_ when I’m not on something, y’know? Christ, I’m surprised I never overdosed aside from when I turned thirty one.”

“Wait, you overdosed? I thought you were just really fucked up.”

“I _was_ fucked up, but I mixed a few things I shouldn’t have mixed, and lost track of what the fuck I was doing, and I’m fucking lucky I didn’t die or something, and that I was just… crashing real hard for a week or two.”

“You should’ve gone to an emergency room.”

“Tyler, you know I’m stupid, and it was over a year ago. There’s nothin’ I can do now.”

“Josh, _honey,_ you aren’t stupid. You made a few bad choices, sure, but it doesn’t make ya stupid. Anyways, what did I tell you about building yourself up rather than _beating_ yourself up?”

“I think I remember something about getting fucked, then eating egg salad sandwiches with you.”

“I meant that patting yourself on the back and looking at the positive side of things is good for your self-esteem or some shit. That’s what my therapist told me, basically. Fake it till you make it, y’know?”

“It’s gonna take a lot of faking to get through this, then. I wish I would’ve gone through this shit when I was in my twenties. It’d be a lot easier to deal with, because I was just starting out with my career at that point. Like, I think twenty two would’ve been a good age.”

“I was ten, Josh. It wouldn’t have worked.”

Josh snorts and kisses the top of Tyler’s head. “You’re not wrong. I think the only reason I’ve been doing so good as far as NA stuff goes is because you’ve been around.”

“You need to give yourself some credit. I wasn’t the one who mustered up the courage to get help and to start going to NA again..”

“Didn’t you quit drinking and using shit too?”

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t an addict. Probably was on the way to _being_ one, but, no offense, I didn’t want to go through the hell you went through with that shit, and, also, if I wouldn’t have quit doing that shit you would’ve started using again, and I know it. Don’t argue.”

“I’m not arguing, sweetheart. I still think you’re way more than I deserve, honestly.” Josh just about whispers the last sentence, and Tyler reaches back to lightly whack him upside the head.

“Quit that. I think you deserve the world, and then some.”

“You must be the entire universe, then, because I really don’t deserve you.”

“Okay, on one hand I want to be flattered, but on the other I kind of want to hit you again. I’m assuming you’re saying that because I’ve done a lot for you, but, like… When you love someone like I love you, you’d do anything just to make sure they’re okay. Hell, I literally donated blood just so you could get a blood transfusion because you were super anemic.”

“Still appreciate that, by the way.”

“You better. I fucking hate needles and I almost fainted on Brendon and Dallon.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right--Brendon was there. I wonder _why_ he was there.”

"He cut his palm open while making dinner or some shit. At least, that's what Dallon told me. That's why they were there. Initially I was gonna call him to ask for your blood type, but I ended up calling Jordan, because, like,  _fuck_ Brendon. He loves you, though. He could've just gone home after he got stitches for his hand, but he stayed. And--alright--I know he  _also_ loves you in a more than friend way, but even when the two of you  _weren't_ on good terms, he probably would've killed for you if he had to. He's a good friend when he isn't being a dickhead."

"He probably would've known my bloodtype..." Josh mutters.

"Why would he know that, though?"

“We had some project to do in Biology, I think, and we had some weird conversation. Surprised he remembered.”

“Ah,” Tyler says before yawning pretty intensely. Like, intense enough that his eyes water a little bit. “Are you calm enough to go to bed now?”

“Kind of. Still worrying about what I should do.”

“I’ll give you a plan--work your contacts, work your clients, and start using what you know about Annex or whatever the fuck that company was called to drag them to hell and back. They fucked you over, so now it’s your turn. Fuck them back. Steal their clients, and maybe even some of their employees at some point. You’ve already snagged Deb and one of the graphic design majors, so just keep going. By the time you’re done, your old boss is going to be asking _you_ for a job.”

“It’s Innox.”

“Close enough. How does that plan sound?”

“Solid, to be honest.”

“Think you could go to bed now?”

“Reassure me real quick. Make it believable.”

Tyler turns around in Josh’s lap, and kisses him on the lips, firm but gentle, and then puts hands on either sides of Josh’s face so he can force the older man to make eye contact with him. “You’re going to be fine. You’re smart and you’re good at what you do. You’re going to get through this, just like you get through everything else. How’s that for reassuring?”

“Pretty good, honestly. I’m going to talk to Debby tomorrow morning, ask her if she can get me a list of names and numbers to call. God, I’m stupid for not working my damn contacts. I hate anxiety. I really do.”

“Shit happens, man. _Now_ can we go to bed? I’m really tired and I like it when you’re next to me because you’re warm.”

\---

“What’d you need me for, Josh?” Debby asks as she steps into the small room that’s Josh’s office. He’d sent her a text message around the time _he_ got up, saying that she needed to meet him in his office as soon as she got to work.

“I need you to get me a list of Innox’s clients.”

She raises her eyebrows before sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. She links her perfectly manicured fingers together, and stares him down. “Any specific reason?”

“Quit trying to intimidate me. I’m your boss and we even have a kid. Just--look--I had a talk with Tyler last night, and he told me that I need to start working my contacts, and that I need to start using what I know about Innox to fuck them over since they’d fucked me.”

“Didn’t you have to sign an NCC?”

“I was supposed to but I never got around to it, so I’m free to fuck them over if I want. Which I do. I really want to fuck them over. Anyways, if I have a list of their clients, I can start snagging them. I’ll probably start with the small ones, since they won’t take too much convincing, then I’ll go after the big ones. If they lose their clients, they lose their profit.”

“You’re a horrible person, Josh. I love it. Was that it?”

“Uh, no. There was something else,” Josh says this as he puts a few papers on his desk into a file that goes in a drawer. “I want… advice.”

“Alright. What kind of advice?”

“Tyler’s birthday is in about a month and a half, and I want to get him something or do something, but I don’t know what. I’m bad at gifts, but I’m good at expressing appreciation through affection. You’re, like… a girl. Figured you’d know.”

“Josh, me being a girl has nothing to do with that. Did you have any ideas?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking you. He didn’t get much last year, aside from a few gifts from his dad and the privilege of talking me down from a panic attack, which was obviously the best gift I could’ve given him.”

Debby chuckles. “He likes romantic things. Take him out on a date or something, maybe buy him some flowers. He’s real sentimental from what I hear, so maybe a card with a sappy note?”

“I’m bad at dating. What did you do when you and Jen were dating? I never got the experience because I was too busy fucking my brains out and getting tweaked in my twenties.”

“We took each other out to dinner, and to movies. We’re kind of boring, Josh. We couldn’t really afford to do anything special when we were dating. _You_ can afford to do something special, though, so maybe ask someone else.”

“Who else would I even ask?”

“Dallon or Brendon would probably know. Probably Dallon, actually. Brendon’s kind of like a watered down version of what you were like when you were twenty five.”

Josh sighs, and Debby bounces a few more ideas off of him before Josh excuses her with the instructions to get that list to him ASAP.

\---

“Kraft mac and cheese? Really?” Josh asks, a skeptical look on his face as Tyler sets a bowl down in front of Josh’s usual spot at the dining table.

“I haven’t eaten for shit today, and I know you only had toast this morning, so we’re eating mac and cheese, and we’re going to talk about our days like a normal couple. Before I sit down, do you want anything to drink?”

“Scotch?”

“Nice try, dick.”

Josh rolls his eyes and sits down, saying, “If we have any sparkling cider, that’d be great. If not, I suppose I can settle on water.”

Tyler gives him a thumbs up before slipping back into the kitchen. He looks through the fridge, but doesn’t see what Josh had requested, so he gets to filling up a glass with ice, and water. For himself, he grabs a bottle of soda, and pours some into a glass.

Once he sets the water down in front of Josh, he gets thanked and offered a small smile. Tyler kisses Josh on the lips for a few seconds, since he looks kind of adorable, before he sits in his own seat. “How was work?”

“Deb got me a list of Innox’s clients, worked on a few conceptual things for a few other clients, and set up a bunch of meetings over the course of the next few weeks. Been busy as fuck, and my back hurts from sitting in my desk chair all day. How was college?”

“It was there. Did a few assignments when I got home. Oh, and, I finished a song.”

“Cool. What’s it about?”

“Something that’s definitely going to get misunderstood by anyone other than you or me listens to it. It’s a pretty simple piece. Slow, mostly piano, and lyrics that are pretty metaphorical.”

“Y’know, why do you write songs that don’t flat out say what they mean?”

“I like to leave things up to interpretation. My music means something to me, but it might mean something else to other people. For example, a lot of people think Somebody to Love by Queen is just about the guy being lonely, _but,_ I personally think the song is about someone who has HIV or AIDS just because of what the lyrics are. Next time you listen to it, pay attention, and you’ll get what I mean.”

“You came up with that answer awfully fast.”

“It’s something I’ve thought about before. I just write what comes to me, and I don’t try making my lyrics into something they aren’t, if you feel me. It’s like if I were to try and be straight. Christ, okay, I hate when artists play the pronoun game. Like, if you’re writing about a dude, just use male pronouns.”

“Do you use male pronouns?” Josh asks before blowing on a bite of his food, trying to get it to cool off.

“When the occasion arises, yeah. I reference you in a lot of my shit.”

“Oh _really?”_ Josh gets a shit-eating look on his face as he leans forward, looking at Tyler in the eye, waiting for him to continue.

“Of course I have. A lot of shit has happened and music is how I vent. I’ve got tons of songs that I probably won’t ever release.”

“Are they good?”

“Incredibly.”

“Then why won’t you release them?”

“Because I don’t  want, like… I don’t want people to listen to songs I’ve written about you, because they’re _really_ important to be. I know if someone listened to them, they’d misunderstand it. I mean, I know that’s just something that happens, but it’s really hard sharing something so _personal_ about yourself. Like, you’ve heard my other music. It’s not exactly light stuff.”

“How personal are they? I couldn’t imagine that they could be more _personal_ than any of the stuff you’ve already put out into the world. You write about some really sad shit, man. Sad and tragic enough that I wonder if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. And pretty personal. I don’t like people prying into my private life, kind of like you. I mean, I’m cool with my friends doing it, but I don’t want it to happen on a large scale. I’ve got a bunch that I haven’t recorded anything for that I wrote within the three or four months before you started going to NA, because things were kind of tough, and I’m bad at handling things if I don’t use music. Like, I wouldn’t be surprised if I tried hurting myself. I can see myself doing that if I ever got bad enough. I’m really bad at handling my emotions. Like I said.”

“I can--I can get why you wouldn’t want other people hearing that.”

“Yeah. I have even more from, like… Between January and May, for obvious reasons. You had the cancer shit going on, plus Brendon, and I was really fucking scared and mad and confused. Like, I didn’t get _why_ any of this was happening to you, and, man, I love you so fucking much. I don’t know why I’m so… against sharing things like that.”

“If they’re good, really good, then you should. In the nine years I’ve been in advertising, it’s usually the stuff that you’re afraid of letting people see that makes it the furthest. I’ve worked with musicians before you. Some of them were afraid of releasing certain things that they’d get judged for, or that they were afraid people wouldn’t receive well, and, I’ll be frank-- _that_ stuff was the stuff that got them places. Also, if you, for some reason, want my permission to share that stuff, then you got it. If it makes you successful, then I’m not going to stand in the way of that. I won’t be able to do much as far as promoting goes, for now, since I’m trying to be really frugal, but let me try to get some stuff going, and I’ll see what I can do. Also, man, we heard your music on the radio, and you still have a fairly steady stream of income from what you’re selling in Brendon’s store even though it’s been almost a year.”

“I’ll take your advice, then. Do you want to listen to some of them before I do anything…? Just to make sure you’re _completely_ alright with it…?”

“Would me listening to your music and giving an opinion make it any less amazing?”

“No, but I like it when you compliment me. I’m egotistical.”

Josh rolls his eyes at Tyler. “You’ve always got my vote of confidence, alright? You’re brilliant, and if you did something that was bad, I’d be the first to tell you. Luckily, you haven’t.”

“I have one other song that I’m thinking about posting on Livejournal, and that new site that popped up a few months ago called MySpace. I’ve… I’ve got a little bit of a following. Not a whole lot, but enough for it to matter.”

“You should start selling physical copies of your album and the EP on the internet. I’ll see if I can pay to have some more made. You’re on your own as far as shipping them goes, if it were to pan out.”

“I’ll look into it. Anyways, enough of the deep conversation. Mac and cheese isn’t the kind of food you eat when you have deep conversations.”

Josh grins a little bit. “You’re not wrong. I do have something else to talk about, though," Josh is saying as he shovels a bite of his meal into his mouth.

"What is it? Anything bad?"

"No, nothing bad. Don't give me shit for this, but I kind of wanted to do something for your birthday. I asked Deb what I should do, and she suggested a date, flowers, a sappy card, and I kind of think that's a little lame when I could do something better."

"That's... Really sweet, Josh. I'd be fine with that, actually. More than fine. I'd probably suck your dick at least five times if you did that."

"This isn't about me trying to angle for fellatio or to win your affection or some other bullshit. I haven't ever done anything for your birthday though, and last year I had a fucking panic attack, and the year before I flat out told you I thought birthdays weren't worth celebrating, which was really rude, by the way, so, you know...?" Josh sighs. "I'm just asking you myself, because you'd know what you want better than Deb or Dallon or your one friend. Blue hair one. I forgot her name."

"Ashley. I haven't talked to her in a while, but she'd probably know something. I don't know what I want, man. You could do something small and I'd be delighted that you even thought about it in the first place."

"I can't take any time off work right now, or I'd take you somewhere. I'm just bummed that I can't  _think_ of anything."

"Josh, just take me out on a date, buy me a bouquet of gardenias, write me the sappiest note in a card that you possibly can, then lovingly fuck me into the mattress when we get home. You still got a month and a half before my birthday anyways. You have time to figure something out."

Josh whines and makes a face. "That's so  _lame_ though."

"No it isn't, Josh. I'm not that materialistic, so try not to worry about it."

\---

Josh wakes himself up on accident around two in the morning a few days after the Kraft Macaroni & Cheese conversation he’d had with Tyler. He shakes the younger man awake, saying, “Tyler, wake up. I have an idea.”

“Jesus  _fuck,_ Josh, I have shit to do tomorrow,” Tyler whines and shoves Josh off of him before pulling the blankets around himself tighter, and sandwiching his head between two of the pillows.

“This is  _important.”_

“So is college and recording.”

“It’s about  _work.”_

“I’ll make breakfast, and you can tell me before you go to work in a few hours. Lay the fuck back down, and let me sleep.”

Josh wakes Tyler up around around five (at five, on the dot), which is about an hour before he usually gets up. (By about, he means literally.) He draws a sigh out of Tyler, and he figures that Tyler knows he won’t give up until he  _gets_ up. “Any requests for breakfast?” Tyler mumbles sleepily.

“Eggs, toast, and bacon. I’ll make it, as an apology for waking you up.”

Tyler huffs, and rolls over until he falls out of the bed, on purpose, of course. It’s usually the only way he can get up in the mornings without sleeping until he wakes up on his own. He hears Josh fumbling around the room, and he’s curious as to what the man is doing until the lights are on, and he’s whining from basically being blinded.

“Get up, you big baby. I had a dream about what to do. Of course, I was also naked and nailing Ashton Kutcher in that dream,  _but,_ it’s important.”

“Ashton Kutcher? Really? All I can think about is the godawful outfits he wears on That 70’s Show.” Tyler grunts as he stands up, following Josh to the kitchen. He sits on one of the bar stools, and asks Josh to tell him what his idea was while he cooks. He also puts in a request for french toast instead of regular toast.

“Listen, Ashton Kutcher is kind of cute.”

“You don’t have wet dreams about someone who is  _‘kind of cute.’_ I’ve only had wet dreams about you, Leonardo DiCaprio, and I think I might’ve had one about Dallon but I had a panic attack in the dream since he’s HIV positive and he wasn’t using a condom.”

“Don’t tell Brendon about that last one. He’d have your head on a platter if he knew you had a wet dream about his boyfriend.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Admit it. You got a celebrity crush on Ashton Kutcher.”

“I’m not saying that, but, if the occasion arose, I’d definitely sleep with him.”

“That’s called a celebrity crush, Josh.”

“So if you get famous, would I have a celebrity crush on you?” He asks as he dips a piece of bread into a bowl of mixed eggs before tossing it onto a frying pan.

“No, because we’re in a relationship. You’d be my trophy wife. Also, like, you’re  _actually_ in love with me, so it extends beyond a celebrity crush.”

Josh rolls his eyes this time.

“Anyways, what was the work thing?”

“Undercutting.”

“What?”

“Undercutting, Tyler. Dream Ashton told me to undercut Innox, because they overcharge way too much. I could undercut them by twenty percent and  _still_ turn a decent profit. Over time, once I build up a list of clients and once I have enough people to handle it, I could hike up the prices and find even more clients.”

“So, no more politician?”

“I didn’t say that. That isn’t off the table yet. I have about a month to decide, and the undercutting shit is going to take at least a year to get done, because i have a lot of bullshitting and schmoozing to do, along with traveling. But I can’t really travel for more than a week or two at a time because my doctors are adamant on monthly appointments to make sure there isn’t a recurrence with the cancer. Either way, I’m doing this. I want to fuck Innox over. I’m petty, but still.”

“You don’t get places without being petty, dude. You have to be petty, and you have to play dirty.”

“You’re not wrong. Anyways, I’m fucking  _spectacular_ at what I do, and I have the exact same connections and about the same resources as Innox, and then some. It’s just--it’s an offer they can’t turn down, and if they do, they’re idiots. God, I think that this is the first time in a long time that I’ve been hopeful about the future.”

“Good. You deserve to be hopeful. What are you doing at work today?” Tyler asks as Josh hands him a glass of orange juice.

“Got a few meetings and a bunch of phone calls to make. Have to take off early for a doctor’s appointment, then I have NA tonight. That’s not work, but, like… It’s part of my day, I guess. How about you?”

“College. I graduate next year, by the way. Don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with my degree, but I’ll have it, and I won’t be in debt, unless you want me to pay you back.” Tyler raises his eyebrows at Josh a little bit, daring him to say something.

“You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart. Though, one hundred and eighty grand is quite a bit.”

“You’re shitting me--that’s how much college is?”

“Thank god you’re not going to a business school. It would’ve been higher.”

Tyler leans back a little bit in the barstool, and just says, “Fuck,” under his breath before saying anything else. “Now I feel guilty. That’s a lot.”

“Not when I was making upwards of a million a year.”

“Fuck. I barely pull in twenty thousand between singing for tips at coffee shops and on street corners.”

“Street corners? Really?”

“Do you know how many people live here? It’s a good way to promote myself. I always carry around a stack of CDs with me too, all of which have the address to Brendon’s store and the link to my Livejournal. I charge ten bucks a pop. You’d be surprised at how many people conveniently carry around tens with them, and how much people are willing to  _give_ you those tens if you start singing some Elvis or Journey,  _and_ Queen.”

“You sing  _Elvis?”_ Josh looks as if he’s learning about a whole new side of Tyler, and, honestly, he kind of is.

“Yeah. Usually I go for Can’t Help Falling in Love, since it fits my voice the most.” Tyler smirks, and gives Josh a somewhat suggestive look, saying, “Maybe I’ll sing it to you sometime.”

Josh squints at him. “You’re kind of corny.”

“You’re just learning this now?”

“Not as if we really talked before just last year. We still have a lot of stuff to learn about each other, I guess. For example, do you know what my favorite color is?”

Tyler thinks for a while, before admitting that he does not, in fact, know what Josh’s favorite color is.

“Exactly. Also, it’s pink.”

“Pink? You like  _pink?_ That’s so cute.”

“It’s why I dyed my hair pink.”

“That’s definitely cute. Like, cute enough that I might throw up.”

“Your favorite color is… Blue? Am I right?”

“Close. I like navy blue. Though, maroon is a close second.”

“What the fuck kind of color is maroon?”

Tyler points towards their coffee maker. “That’s maroon. Kind of like navy blue, it’s dark and unsaturated. I wish that neutral colors like brown and gray and army uniform green wasn’t what I look good in, though. I’d  _love_ to wear red and blue.”

“Then do it. Fuck what makes you look good. If you want to wear red and blue, then wear it. I’d wear pink, but a pink suit is a little  _too_ fruity, and I have to maintain at least a little professionalism if I want to keep my job.”

\---

“Okay, I know you don’t like talking about personal things during work hours, but this is the only time I’m ever able to catch you,” Debby says as she steps into Josh’s office, closing the door behind her.

Josh holds up a finger and finishes reading an email before turning in his seat to face her. “What’s important enough that you’re interrupting work?”

“Jen wants to have another kid.”

“And I’m your sperm donor.”

“Yes, but, uh, there’s one thing.” She holds her fingers close together as she says the last two words. “Jenna wants to be the one to carry this kid. I--I was the one who did the dirty work last time, and she says she wants to, like… Experience that, I guess.”

“I agreed to be  _your_ sperm donor. Not hers,” Josh states as he crosses his arms and crosses his legs.

“I know, I know, but the only thing is that if anything were to happen to either me or Jenna, it’d be less messy if you were their father. Also, I wouldn’t want to split siblings up. That’s one of the worst things that could happen to someone. Like, what if you got split from Jordan when you were growing up? And don’t tell me you wouldn’t have cared, because I know you would. Your dad literally broke your nose because you defended him. You don’t take a punch for someone unless you care about them.”

“And you assume that, if you were to die, I’d just automatically agree to take care of two kids when I have absolutely  _no_ experience with that kind of stuff?”

“I’ve seen you around Nathan, Josh. I know you love him. Christ, you made it your  _mission_ to be around more after you started going to NA again. I trust you more than I trust a stranger, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I’ll--I’ll look into it, I guess. This is a lot to spring on me out of nowhere, Deb.”

“I know it is, trust me. You don’t have to decide right now, but think about it, alright? Try to decide soon, though, because you know Jen has little to no patience with you.”

“Alright,” Josh says with a sigh before uncrossing his arms and his legs, and focusing his attention back to his laptop, since he kind of really needs to reply to the email he’d been looking at before Deb had sprung all of that on him.

\---

Dallon, who has been busy, and who has been constantly interrupted every single fucking time he tries getting to work on grading a bunch of essays, is about to  _maim_ whoever just knocked on the door to his office. He yanks it open, prepared to yell at someone, only to find Josh giving him a look that says, “Jesus Christ, calm down.” Wait--no--he actually says that.

“Josh, I’ve been trying to do something all day, and I keep getting interrupted,” Dallon says with a sigh as he walks back to his desk, motioning for Josh to come in. Josh takes a seat on the floor against a wall. “What’d you need?”

“Advice, I guess. I don’t want to talk to Tyler yet, and I don’t trust Brendon not to say something stupid.”

Josh gets a quirked brow. “Are you alright…?”

“Yeah. Deb basically cornered me in my office this morning and told me that her and Jenna want another kid, but that  _Jenna_ wants to be the one to carry the child this time. I agreed to be  _her_ sperm donor, and not Jenna’s.”

“So? What’d you say?”

“That I’d think about it. She said that on the legal side of things that it’d be easier, and I figure that Jenna told her that, since she’s a lawyer and knows about that kind of shit. Mostly it’s just in case something happens to either of them. Debby trusts me for whatever fucking reason.”

“You’re a good person, Josh.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“That’s not up for me to decide.”

“Yeah, but if you were in my position, what would you say?”

“If it were an alternate universe where I wasn’t HIV positive, I’d say yes immediately, because, right now, I can’t have any kids of my own unless I’m willing to give someone else, plus an infant, HIV, which I’m not willing to do.”

“Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. I want to say yes, but I don’t want that much responsibility on my plate.”

“You’re not twenty one anymore, Josh. It’s not like you’re even going out to bars or clubs anymore, you’re in a long-term relationship with someone, and you’ve gotten your shit together, man. Anyways, something happening to either of them is all just hypothetical. Realistically, you’re just going to be asked to babysit once in awhile. Also, I’ve met Nathan, and the kid is fucking adorable. I’m sure your next offspring will be just as cute. Bless the world with cute infants.”

Josh smiles half heartedly. “So, it’s a yes from you?”

“I suppose so, yeah. Talk to Tyler about it, though. He’s your partner, so he should get more of a say in it than me. Also, I think he’s about to get out of his last class for the day, so you should give him a ride home.”

“What room is he in?” Josh asks as he gets up with a grunt. His knees and his back ache from sitting in his desk chair all day long.

“I think it’s room 107, in this building. It’s three doors to the right of the door you probably came in from.”

“I think I know where you’re talking about. I’ll seeya around, Dallon,” And with that, Josh exits the aforementioned man’s tiny shoebox of an office.

He adjusts his blazer and his tie a little bit, then stops in front of a mirror that’s in the hallway for whatever reason to make sure his hair is alright. Why he’s gussying himself up, he’ll never know. Well, okay, he knows. Josh is the kind of guy who has some  _need_ to look perfect all the time. He knows he’s never going to get rid of the slight discoloration under his eyes from years of not sleeping properly, and he knows there isn’t anything he can do about his hair, which is thinning a little bit, and a bunch of other tiny flaws, but he still likes to take pride in his appearance.

While Josh is running his hands through his hair, trying to get it to lay down and to stop it from sticking up everywhere, there’s a girl tapping him on his shoulder, saying, “Josh? What are you doing here?”

He jumps a little bit from being startled. “Uh. You’re Tyler’s friend, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. I’m Ashley. I think it’s a little creepy I know your name. He’s still in class. I just got out of one. I was going to go with him to get some coffee from Starbucks before dropping him off in front of your apartment complex.”

“Oh, really? Yikes,” Josh bites the inside of his cheek and furrows his brows a bit. “I was going to give him a ride home, maybe pick up something for dinner on the way.” Josh leaves out the fact that he’d end up having to leave home again around seven, though, since he has NA.

“You could come with us! I’m sure he’d be delighted. Kid fuckin’ adores you, man.”

“Maybe ask him about that first. I don’t want to overstay my welcome or anything.”

“Oh, cut the shit, Josh. I can see it in your eyes, I swear. You want to come get Starbucks with us, or him, at least, so don’t even try to argue. C’mon. His last class gets out in about five or ten minutes.” Ashley grabs Josh by the arm, and just pulls him along.

Josh thinks that if he were still the asshole he was at twenty-nine, he probably would’ve pushed her away and cursed her out, but now he’s just…  _letting_ her drag him along. Though, the added bonus of getting to see Tyler after a fairly long day is definitely a factor in why he’s basically just a pliant mess of a man right now.

They stand outside of the classroom Tyler’s in, trying to pretend that the silence between them isn’t awkward. Josh leans against a wall, and picks at one of his thumbnails, seemingly transfixed by it until the door to the classroom is opening, and a bunch of students are walking out, all looking dead tired.

Apparently, since the door had opened in such a way to where it blocked everyone’s view of Josh, Tyler didn’t see him, and Josh just--he holds a finger up to his lips when Ashley looks at him from over Tyler’s shoulder when the younger man had hugged her.

“Oh, god, Ash, I can’t wait to get some fucking coffee. I’m so exhausted from today. Did I tell you that I have four essays due by next Wednesday?” Josh watches as he detaches himself from her, and places hands on her shoulders. “It’s hell, Ash, it’s seriously hell. I’m so glad I’m graduating this year.”

“I feel you, buddy, I really do.” After saying this, Ashley starts walking in the opposite direction of Josh, and manages to do a slight jerk of her head, signalling for him to follow, without Tyler noticing.

Josh waits until they’re about twenty feet away from him until he starts walking. Once he’s behind Tyler, he decides to pull the corny and overdone move of putting his hands over his eyes, whispering, “Guess who?” into his ears.

Tyler jumps a little bit, but says, “Is it… John Stamos?”

“Nope. Guess again, sweetheart.”

“Hmm…” Tyler crosses his arms, and rubs his chin for a few seconds before one of his arms is flying back, and Josh finds that  _someone_ just grabbed his dick in public. “Judging by the dick, I’d have to say that it’s Josh.”

Josh had jumped and yelped when Tyler had done that, meaning he took his hands from the boy’s eyes. Ashley laughs, loudly, and Tyler turns around and hugs Josh. “I’ve had a long day, J.”

“Me too,” Josh replies softly as he hugs Tyler back.

Tyler lets go of Josh not long after, and says, “What are you even doing here?”

“Had to, uh, talk to Dallon about a thing. I was going to buy you dinner then take you home before I have to go to the thing. Kinda have something I want your input on after the thing.”

“What’s the something?”

“Uh. Can we talk about it when I’m home for the night? Now’s not the time.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“Tyler, it’s serious. Don’t be a dick.”

“Okay, okay, enough with the cuteness, you two,” Ashley’s saying as she puts hands on either of the men’s chests, pushing them away from each other. “Josh, do you want to accompany us for coffee?”

“Will you bring me back here so I can get my car…?”

“He’s sensitive about his car, Ash. Be considerate,” Tyler says, sarcastically. “You should come, J. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the chance to properly introduce you to my faaavorite friend.”

“Don’t patronize me, Joseph.”

\---

“Okay, did Tyler ever tell you about the time he punched someone in the boy’s locker room at our school?”

“Oh, god, Ash, don’t get into that. I broke three of my fingers doing that.”

“And you broke his nose. It was so worth it.”

“I don’t believe Tyler  _has_ told me about that.”

“Yeah, because I  _broke three of my fingers._ Like I’m going to tell you I socked someone in the face for calling me a fudge-packing  _faggot_ , and broke three of my fingers in the process. I  _cried_ like a baby for a solid eight hours.”

“Remember the time you threw up all over Janice’s parents’ couch?”

“It was because I didn’t know the punch was spiked, and I ate a shit ton of food that day. Also, I left before anyone could tattle. There’s no proof it was me. Anyways, quit trying to embarrass me in front of Josh.”

“Oh, Ashley, please keep going. I need all the ammunition I can get.”

 _“For what?”_ Tyler scoffs and gives Josh an incredulous look. “I’m am a  _perfect_ angel. I have done no wrong in my life.”

“Do you want me to tell Ashley about some of your sexcapades?”

“Oh, god--”

“Josh,  _please_ tell me about some of his sexcapades. He quit talking to me about them a few months after he met you. I need ammunition of my own.”

“You’re such a bitch, Ashley.”

“Can I tell her something tame?”

Tyler glares. “Depends on what it is.”

“I’m not telling you what it is. I just want an answer.”

“It better not be too embarrassing. Asshole.”

“Tyler calls me  _daddy_ when we fuck sometimes.”

Ashley gets the biggest shit eating grin on her face, and Tyler goes red. “Josh has cried while we’ve had sex before.”

“Tyler likes his hair pulled.”

“Josh likes being choked.”

“Tyler’s into felching.”

“What’s… what’s felching…?” Ashley looks a little concerned.

“It’s when--” Tyler slaps a hand over Josh’s mouth.

“Don’t you  _dare_ fucking tell her what it is. She will  _never_ let me hear the end of it.”

“Did he ever tell you about the time he woke me up with a blow job?” Josh turns his head to Ashley again.

“Tyler, you--it’s like you have some secret life as--as some kinky avenger."

“Oh, please, he’s about as vanilla as they come, trust me. He thinks face-sitting is kinky.”

Ashley snorts. “Seriously, Tyler?”

“What’s so wrong about being vanilla?” Tyler’s defensive now, looking back and forth between his best friend and his partner.

Josh chuckles, and leans over to kiss him on the cheek, saying, “I’m just teasing, sweetheart. There ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“Oh my  _god,_ he calls you  _sweetheart?_ That’s--that’s so cute.” She awws at them.  
  
“Whether or not he wants to admit it, he’s totally a romantic.”

\---

Tyler’s on the couch working on one of the essays he needs to get done after the coffee expedition with Josh and Ashley, when Josh comes home for the second time that evening. Tyler doesn’t bother getting up, mostly since he  _needs_ to get this essay done. He figures Josh will come to him, just as he usually does.

After ten or twenty minutes of silence after hearing the other man walk to his bedroom, Tyler gets up to go check on him. Josh is face down, on the bed, in a sweater that Tyler thinks might be his, but he isn’t sure since it’s a little big on Josh, and a pair of loose fitting flannel pants. “J? You okay…?” Tyler asks, carefully, as he steps over to the bed, eventually crawling across it to lay next to Josh.

Josh turns his head to face away from Tyler, and says, “No,” in a voice that means he’s been crying, or that he’s about to. If he’s about to, Tyler wants to de-escalate the situation, but if he has been, then Tyler wants to just take care of him and make sure he’s alright.

“Something happen at work…?”

Josh doesn’t answer, but rather curls in on himself basically, and Tyler can see the way his body convulses from trying to suppress a sob.

“Josh, don’t try fighting it. If you need to cry then cry. Nothin’ wrong about it.” Tyler scoots closer to him, and Josh turns on his left side, facing away from him, so Tyler takes the hint to to spoon him. “You want to talk about it?”

He says, “Later,” in an almost pitiful voice, so Tyler takes to just gently tugging Josh back a bit by placing his hand and part of his arm on the older man’s chest while basically holding him.

“You want me to talk or just hold you?” He holds up one finger, then puts his other one up, meaning  both. (They use a few hand gestures if one of them can’t talk. If it’s an ‘or’ question, one finger means the first choice, and two means the second. If one of them needs the other to do the ‘count to four’ breathing exercise with them, then four fingers get held up. Three fingers mean  _‘Get me out of this situation ASAP.’_ )

“Alright, I can do that.” Tyler tucks his face in between the spot between Josh’s shoulder and his neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but you’ll be alright. I got you, J.”

Tyler gets the panic attacks, he  _definitely_ does, but it still hurts to see someone he loves having one, because they fucking  _suck._ He figures Josh probably forgot to take his anxiety medications, or that it was the caffeine from all the coffee that set him off. Or something happened. Tyler doesn’t know and doesn’t care right now. His first priority is just to calm him down.

“Would it help if I got all soft on ya and told you how much I love you? And how much I appreciate and admire you? And that I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure nothing bad happens to you?”

“Start--start with the f-first one.” His voice cracks on ‘start’ and he barely chokes out the ‘one.’ Tyler moves the arm and hand that’s on Josh’s chest up so he can run his fingers through Josh’s head of mostly pink hair. (Only the top of it is pink. The rest is dyed black. Tyler suggested he get a mohawk at some point, but Josh just deadpanned, saying, “I’m not dressing up like some fucking punk. I’m too old for that.” Of course, that prompted Tyler to tease Josh about his age, and that caused Josh to threaten to make Tyler sleep on the couch if he didn’t can it.)

“I love you so much, Josh. I know you think I’m lying when I say that, but I’m not. Sometimes when I see you I get that cliche butterflies in the stomach feeling, and sometimes if you smile at me my heart beats so fast and hard that it’s about all I can hear. I like how you look on Saturday mornings when you sit in front of the windows in the living room drinking coffee or tea. You always look so peaceful and real pretty and it makes me stop and take a minute to appreciate how you look. I like your freckles. Like, you have them  _everywhere_ on you and it’s the cutest thing ever. I love your eyes too. They’re such a pretty shade. Sometimes they look brown but other times they look green and it’s the weirdest but coolest thing. There’s so much more about you that I love. Like, so much that we’d be here, in this bed, forever if I tried listing them all.”

“Second one?” By now, his breathing has evened out a little bit, and although he’s still crying and sobbing slightly once in awhile, he’s on his way to being calm.

“I admire how brave you are. I think when I was still regularly having panic attacks after the prom thing, you told me how brave you thought i was, and you told me how brave I was to tell my parents that I’m gay and to stand up to them. Personally, I think you’re a lot braver. Way more brave. Like, when I was fourteen--I haven’t told anyone this before, by the way--I tried killing myself and that’s why I started going to therapy at fourteen, and that took a lot out of me, y’know? I know you didn’t start  _actually_ getting help for anything until you were well past thirty, and that it’s been maybe a year and a half since then, but I know how scary it is to open up to someone you don’t know about that stuff. Personally, I think you’re braver in that respect, because I was forced into therapy. You weren’t.

“I think it’s brave you told your dad that you’re gay, before he died. I know he had a piss-poor reaction, but you tried, and I really know how hard it is coming out to parents. Though, my mom did kinda stalk me… Anyways, though.

“I think you’re super fucking brave to start going to NA. I  _know_ that took a lot and that it hasn’t been easy, but you’ve stuck to it for a year and almost three months this week. That’s admirable.  _And_ when we found out you had cancer. Personally, I was scared shitless, and I cannot imagine how you felt, but aside from griping all the time and between me having to take care of you, you still put on that fucking, “Come at me, dick,” face. Like, not even cancer can bring you down.” After this Tyler props himself up on an elbow, and maneuvers Josh to lay on his back.

His eyes are red and puffy and his cheeks are splotchy and red, sticky with tears, and he’s sniffling a bit, but Tyler still leans down to kiss him. Josh reciprocates, gentler than usual, and sorta leans into the hand Tyler places on the side of his face. Tyler’s face hovers above Josh’s, and he asks, “You wanna talk about it now?”

He shakes his head. “In a bit. Can you--can you make dinner or something? I didn’t get a lunch break and I forgot to stop at the diner on my way home. I’ve been living off of coffee today.”

Tyler nods and kisses Josh again, shorter this time. “Whatever you want. Any requests?”

“Pasta. I want comfort food.”

“Alright then. Did you take your anxiety thing this morning?”

“Forgot.”

Tyler scoffs and taps him on the face. “You need to not forget. I’ll go get the one for panic attacks. Remember the other one tomorrow morning. Or try to, at least. Do you want me to stay in here longer until you’re  _completely_ fine?”

Josh nods a little sheepishly, and Tyler just lays down next to him again, running a hand through Josh’s hair when the older man tucks himself into Tyler’s side.

\---

“Here, drink this,” Tyler says as he slides a glass of iced tea over the island in the kitchen towards Josh. “It’s chamomile, and it’s decaf. I like chamomile, so I figured you might. It helps calm ya down.”

Josh nods and yawns a little bit as Tyler gets back to making spaghetti. “Sorry that I don’t cook more often.”

“I like cooking, so don’t worry. Also, you just had a panic attack. That shit takes a lot out of someone, even you, so just let me make you something to eat while you drink that tea.”

“I feel bad, though,” He whines a little bit.

“Well, don’t. Let me worry about food right now. You need to eat, and I  _know_ you secretly want me to help you, so don’t even start. I don’t have class tomorrow, so, if you’d like, I could bring you lunch…?”

“Can’t. Have meetings with a few of the smaller clients I’ve already managed to steal from Innox, then one with one of the bigger ones to see if I can throw him an offer that he likes.”

“Are you overworking yourself?” Tyler asks as he stirs the pot of noodles.

“Don’t have a choice right now. Trying to see if I can start turning a profit or at least break even by December so I don’t have to deal with the politician.”

“Still, you need to go easy on yourself, even if it’s just a bit.”

“Can I talk about why I was freaking out earlier?”

“Feel free. I’m all ears.” At this point, Tyler’s taking the noodles from the burner so he can strain them and rinse them before setting them in a large bowl to cool. He always makes enough to have leftovers, and Josh loves it.

“Everything just  _hit_ me all at once. When I’m--when I’m freaking out, loud noises scare me really bad and they make it worse and it makes me panic  _more._ Tonight’s one of the nights where a  _lot_ of people are out, partying, going to bars and clubs, and I usually walk to my NA meetings since it’s a street over and isn’t far enough to warrant me driving. So when I was walking back, I was overthinking, worrying about work and how difficult everything is right now, and how I’m going to crash and burn. Then people--people are loud, yelling, cars honk, and I couldn’t really process anything else other than feeling scared and as if someone was about to hurt me.”

Tyler walks around the counter while he’s letting the sauce simmer, and wraps his arms around Josh’s shoulders, before kissing him on the cheek, whispering, “Like I said--I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure nothing bad happens to you and that you’re safe.”

“Thank you,” He says quietly as he returns Tyler’s little hug. Tyler rubs his back a little bit, and Josh takes a minute to close his eyes and to just accept the gesture of intimacy before whispering, “I still feel like I don’t deserve you.”

“Personally, I don’t really get what you see in me, because I’m literally just some kid you picked up off the street, but you got me, and if you got something, then you deserve it. When you’re with me, do you feel like you’re settling for something?”

Josh shakes his head. “How about you? Do you feel like you’re settling when it comes to me?”

“Not one bit, babe. Not one bit. If you don’t feel like you’re settling, then you deserve me. What’s funny, though, is I’m not a thing. I’m just a person, with a lot of flaws, and you’re the same thing. A person with a lot of flaws. We are both people with a lot of flaws, so try not to put me up on a pedestal, alright?”

“I’m not trying to do that, but it happens, Tyler.”

“I know. Anyways, as much as I’m enjoying this moment with you, I need to go take that sauce off the burner before it, y’know, burns.”

Josh huffs and pulls away from Tyler. Tyler catches sight of his eyes, and wipes under them with his thumbs. “Don’t get misty-eyed on me,  _sweetheart.”_

Josh sticks his tongue out at Tyler, and Tyler grins before kissing him.

“That’s the spirit, J.”

While Tyler’s pouring the sauce into the bowl, to mix the spaghetti up, Josh says, “Deborah and Jenna want to have another kid.”

Tyler looks at Josh over his shoulder and smiles. “That’s great! Are you going to be their sperm donor again?”

“I would, but Jenna wants to… do the dirty work, as Debby called it.”

“So?”

 _“So,_ I agreed to be Debby’s sperm donor. Not hers. It’s just--Debby said that Jenna said that, on the legal side of things, it’d be easier if it was me, just in case anything happened to them, but I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”

“I see where you’re coming from, but that’s all just hypothetical, Josh. It probably won’t happen. Even if it did, you have me, you have Brendon probably, you have Dallon definitely, probably Patrick and Pete too. Then there’s my dad, and I’m sure your brother and  _maybe_ your mother wouldn’t be too averse to helping. Again, that’s all hypothetical, but you have a lot of people who care about you, Josh. A lot.”

“I asked Dallon, and he said I should do it. I asked him if he would, and he said that he would, especially since he  _can’t_ have kids. He told me to ask you, though, since we’re partners.”

“It’s not my decision, Josh,” Tyler reminds him. “I’m not the only who is going to be shooting my load into a little cup for them to just--do whatever--and for Jenna to pop out a kid.”

“Debby told me you were her second choice, by the way, so if I don’t agree, she’s going to come after you,” Josh deadpans.

“Oh, seriously? C’mon, I’m like twelve.”

“I’m just kidding. They’d probably go to Brendon. Anyways, if you were in my shoes, like, if you were a thirty two year old with severe, almost crippling anxiety and clinical depression, what would you say?”

“Well, I’m a twenty year old with post traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, and bipolar, type two, so with that in mind, I would say yes. Didn’t you give up your parental rights with Nathan?”

“Yeah. Jenna’s his mom too, as much as I don’t like her. The order of things is that if something happened to Deb, she’d be his legal guardian, if something happened to her it’d be Deb or Deb and me, and if something happens to both of them, then it’s up to me. I think I’ll say yes. Though, fuck--Deb used to make me go to lamaze with her if Jenna couldn’t.”

Tyler giggles. “Sorry--I can’t get the mental image of you going to lamaze out of my head.”

“It’s about as awkward as you think it is, trust me. Fuck--did I tell you I was with Deb when she went into labor? She was literally in my fucking office giving me a few papers to sign from my boss, and then the next thing I know I’m at a hospital holding an infant.”

“That sounds… really intense. I’d probably have a panic attack.”

“I’m pretty sure I was stoned when it happened so I was too  _calm_ to really even think anything sensible other than, ‘Oh fuck, my ex-girlfriend-slash-beard from high school who is literally having my child is in labor but her wife isn’t here so I have to drive her to a hospital.’”

“Again, I’d have panic attack. Anyways, what do you think you’re going to say?”

“I think I’m going to say yes.”

Tyler nods, and steps over to a cupboard to get a few bowls out. “You want parmesan?”

“Not really, no.”

“Good, because we don’t have any,” Tyler says with a bit of a laugh. “Do you ever want kids of your own some day?”

As Tyler’s dishing some spaghetti into either of the bowls, Josh hesitates for just a moment before saying, “Honestly? I do. I just--haven’t found anyone I want to have that with before. And I’m afraid I’m going to be like my dad.”

“You’re not like your dad. I never got the chance to meet him, but even when you were  _livid_ with me, you not  _once_ laid a hand on me, and you never really even said anything that rude or mean other than calling me a little shit once or twice. And I’ve seen you with Nate. I think you’d be a good dad, whether or not you’d like to admit it.” With that last sentence, Tyler sets the bowl of spaghetti down in front of Josh.

“How about you? Do you ever want kids?”

“I do. Not right now, since I’m--I’m still a kid, basically, but I think that when I have my shit together, and when I have a job or a career, whichever comes first, I think I want kids. When I was, like, sixteen or so, and I figured out I was gay, I was so mad because I thought I wouldn’t get to have kids since I don’t like girls, but then I realized that, like, adoption and surrogate mothers are a thing.” And, now, Tyler is sitting next to Josh, beginning to eat his spaghetti. “Anyways, you said ‘before.’ Did you just say that or are you implying something?” Tyler doesn’t look at him, but rather stares into his bowl.

“I’m not promising anything right now, because I’m afraid of fucking up, but I think that, in the future, I could probably imagine myself having that kind of life with you. Not now, because I don’t--I don’t think either of us are ready for something like that, but eventually, yeah.”

Tyler nudges Josh in the arm with the elbow. “Quit that, or I’m gonna have to kiss you, and I might cry.”

“Or maybe,” Josh leans over, mouth dangerously close to Tyler’s ear, and he throws his arm over the back of the younger man’s bar stool before continuing, “we could finish our spaghetti, then go make sweet love all night.”

Tyler puts his fork down and has to hide his face in his hands. “Why do you always have to ruin good moments? I was all mushy and happy ‘cuz I love you, and now I’m blushing like a fifteen year old on their first date.”

“Are you really turning down an opportunity to top?”

Tyler sits up straight to look Josh dead in the eyes. “I would  _never._ You sure, though? You’re kind of… emotional, right now. I don’t want to take advantage.”

Josh pecks him on the lips. “I’m a big boy, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I want to.”

\---

Tyler doesn’t have class the day, two weeks after Josh’s meltdown after NA, that his partner is supposed to be…  _doing the thing_ for everyone's favorite pair of lesbians.

And Josh calls him. Tyler answers, of course. “Are you alright?” he asks before Josh can greet him.

“ _I’m having trouble getting it up because there’s only a bunch of Playboys here. Can you--can you talk to me?”_

“You want me to have phone sex with you?” Tyler sets his pen down and leans back against the couch.

“ _Ugh--yes. Please.”_

“I bet you’re imagining me slowly taking off my clothes, and lying on your bed, legs spread like a common whore.”

Tyler can hear the slight high pitched noise Josh makes at that.

He has no idea what he’s doing. “Or maybe it’s  _you,_ doing a nervous and awkward little strip tease for me, and maybe it’s  _you_  with  _your_ legs spread like a common whore.”

“ _Fuck--I like that one better. Keep going.”_

Tyler  _smirks._ “I would sit near your feet, and I’d tell you to reach into the tiny little drawer in your nightstand. I’d tell you to grab that one bottle of silicone based lube, and I’d tell you to squeeze a little bit onto your fingers.”

Tyler can definitely hear the soft moan Josh lets out and he wants to giggle, but he refrains.

“You’d probably get cheeky. You’d probably immediately slide two fingers into your  _tight_ little hole, but I’d whack your hand, telling you to only use one at first. God, I bet you’d be desperate enough for  _more_ that you’d start to beg. I’d slowly let you work your way up to three fingers, and you would definitely be making these tiny little noises, whining maybe, because, although thick, your fingers aren’t long enough to reach your prostate.”

“ _Keep going--please keep going.”_

“You’d probably be desperate, and you’d even go so far as to say my name. I’d tell you to pull your fingers out, then I’d tell you to scoot over so I could sit against the headboard. I’d do that thing where I’d beckon you over with my finger, and you’d get the idea--you’d know to straddle my hips, and you’d  _slowly_ sink down onto my cock, and this’d be one of the rare times we don’t use condoms, because you probably just like the feeling of someone cumming in your ass. Y’know, I bet you’d try leaning forward, with your forehead against mine, and with your hands on my shoulders, expecting me to do all the work. I’d just  _laugh,_ then I’d tell you to  _bounce._ You’d have to work for it. This ain’t one of those times that I just fuck you, no, I’d let you bounce on my dick, and you’d whine, but I’d just tell you to keep going because you’d be doing  _so good,_ such a good boy, and I’d definitely tell you as much. You’d be doing  _so good_ for me, and maybe a few times I’d put my hands on your hips, and I’d slam you back down onto my cock. You got anything to say other than moaning like a whore?” Tyler asks the last question with a bit of a chuckle.

Josh just moans softly, once more, saying, “ _No. I’m--I’m starting to get close. Please,_ please  _keep going.”_

“Alright, babe, I got you. You’d probably start whining about your thighs being sore, and I’d roll my eyes, but I’d still roll us over until you were on your back, and I’d lean down to kiss you, and I’d tell you that I love you, before I start thrusting. I’d go slow at first, but you’d start asking me to go faster while your nails were digging into my shoulder blades. I’d listen, because, god, how could I deny you anything? You’d keep begging me to go faster until I was absolutely just  _fucking_ you into the mattress, and you’d totally scratch my back up like you usually do whenever I top. I’d do that for a while, I’d just fuck you like a little  _slut,_ and eventually you’d start begging me to  _touch_ you, to let you come, and I’d consider it, I would, and, honestly,  _how could I deny you anything?_ You’d be so hard, so  _sensitive,_ and I bet you’d come only after a few seconds of me jacking you off. I wouldn’t laugh, no, I wouldn’t dare. I’d praise you, because you’re so  _good._ How close are you now?”

Just as Tyler asks the last question, Josh lets out a little noise, saying, “ _So so so close, so fuckng close.”_

“Think you can cum when I tell you to?”

“ _Yeah. I--I think so.”_

“Alright. You’re doin’ real good, by the way. On the count of three, can you do that?”

“ _Yes. Please.”_

“Okay. One.”  _Moan._ “Two.”  _A string of expletives._  “ _Three.”_ And with that, Josh lets out this little shouting-yelping kind of thing that he does when he cums, and Tyler giggles slightly. “Was I any good?”

“ _God yes. Can you… God, this sounds embarrassing.”_

“What is it, babe?”

“ _Could ya… would you, like, talk about after care…? Please?”_

Tyler can imagine Josh with his arm covering his eyes, and it’s an adorable mental image. “I can. I’d slowly pull out, because I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I would go get a washcloth from the bathroom, and I’d wet it with warm water, just like I usually do, and I’d come back to the bedroom to clean you up, because, honestly, I don’t have it in me to make you even lift a finger, at least not now. After you were cleaned up, I’d go set the wash cloth in the sink, because I know you don’t like it if it’s anywhere else. While I was in there, I’d run a bath, making sure it’s just a  _little_ too hot, since that’s how you like your baths and showers. I’d go back again, and you’d probably be real close to falling asleep, but I’d help you stand up and you’d use my arm for balance, just as usual, while I led you to the bathroom. I’d sit behind you in the bath tub, and you’d just lean back, and I’d run my fingers through your hair while gently just kissing your forehead for a while and telling you how much I love you. You’d probably lean forward at some point, so I’d rub your back, because I know it’s stiff, usually from stress and sitting in the same place for too long at work. And then, after staying in there until the water was kinda cold, I’d get out, with you, and I’d hand you that one towel you really like so you can dry off. After that, we’d go to bed, and I’d hold you and I’d praise you until you fell asleep, and… yeah.”

Tyler can hear Josh mumble out a quiet, “I love you.”

“I love you too, babe. You want me to hang up so you can finish doing what you need to do?”

“Yeah, I suppose I should get to that. You’re, like, really good at phone sex, by the way.”

“I know. I’ll see you when you get home, alright?”

\---

 **Josh:**  Could you make dinner tonight

 **Tyler:** comfort food?

 **Josh:** Yeah. Kinda feeling a little vulnerable. Also I got work stuff I want to talk about.

 **Tyler:** its cool. what do ya want to eat

 **Josh:** I think I want the chicken alfredo you make

 **Tyler:** ill have to go buy the stuff to make it since i havent made it in a while :(

 **Josh:** you can use my debit card to pay for it

 **Tyler:** I would do a thumbs up if i had the keys on my phone for it lol

 **Tyler:** ill see if i can bum a ride from brendon cuz i think hes taking the day off for grocery shopping anyways

 **Josh:** How do you even know that

 **Tyler:** i talk to dallon, josh.

 

Tyler exits out of  _that_ conversation and starts a new one with Brendon, since he hasn’t ever sent him a text message before.

 

 **Tyler:** what are u doing

 **Dickhead:** im getting ready to leave my apartment…?

 **Tyler:** cool okay dallon told me that today is grocery day for the two of u and i need to go buy something to make dinner

 **Dickhead:** aaand you want me to give you a ride

 **Tyler:** as much as josh loves me he hasnt bought me a car yet lol

 **Tyler:** im kidding i owuldnt ask for something that expensive

 **Dickhead:** he’s paying your tuition so he might as well

 **Dickhead:** where do you need to go

 **Tyler:** wherever you shop at will do i just dont wanna walk or take the bus

 **Dickhead:** okay

 **Tyler:** think of this as a bonding experience since we still dont really like each other

 

Tyler has to wait for about half an hour until there’s knocking on the door. Tyler opens it, and Brendon just--he invites himself in. “I need to take ibuprofen. I’m hungover and Dallon doesn’t have any for whatever fucking reason.”

“Uh. Okay.” Tyler sighs. He hasn’t had a hangover in over a year, which he definitely doesn’t mind. “Did you drink a lot…?”

Brendon shrugs as he takes four pills out of the bottle. He closes it, and sets it back in its place before opening a cupboard, and saying, “Where are the cups? Josh usually keeps them here.”

“Um. We reorganized the kitchen a few months ago because it was kind of messy, and also I’m left handed and I use the kitchen the most so… Things are where they make sense to me. Cups are in the cupboard to the right of the sink. Not left.”

Brendon grunts, and once he takes the ibuprofen, he says, “C’mon. Got shit to do,” before walking out of the door again. Tyler follows him after making sure he had his wallet and his keys.

And while Brendon drives to whatever store he’s going to, he asks, “Why are you wearing his varsity jacket? Thought that was reserved for football players.”

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or being snide, so I’m going to assume you’re kidding to avoid conflict. Also, he let me wear it the one time you and Dallon took to that one movie theatre, and then gave it to me, because he, and I quote, likes seeing his name plastered across my back.”

“God, he’s so.... Possessive.”

“Eh. I like to think of it more as he loves me to bits and pieces,” And now Tyler sounds sarcastic, obviously kidding. “I just like wearing it because its his. Or was. This is, like, really gay, but it smells like him. Like, I can smell the body was he uses on it. It’ll go away after a while since it’s mine now, but I don’t mind it. I’ll just… take what I can get.”

While they’re at a stoplight, Brendon gives Tyler an incredulous look. “You really fucking love him, don’t you?”

“Um, yeah,” Tyler drawls out, voice slow. “We’ve established this, Brendon. You still stand no chance with Josh, and we still love each other just as much as we did when we had this talk.”

“I’m trying, man, I am. I’m--I’m pretty sure I’m really fucking in love with Dallon. Did I tell you, or Josh, I guess, that I kind of accidentally proposed to him?”

“How do you accidentally  _propose_ to someone?” Tyler lets out a quiet but wheezing laugh.

“I was having a panic attack and he talked me down from it, and I asked him that if gay marriage ever got legalized in America if he would want to get married. I mean, he said yes, and yeah, whenever that happens, or if it happens in Ohio before that then we’re totally getting married.”

“God, that’s good, man. I’m glad you have someone like Dallon. I still think you’re a bit of a dick, but he kind of like… evens it out. When you were with Ryan you were really miserable and didn’t talk to any of us, then you were single for a while and an asshole, then you met Dallon and, slowly, you’ve quit being so much of an asshole. You still got some work, but I believe in you.”

Brendon rolls his eyes. “You’re a dick too.”

“Oh, I know. I’m  _well_  aware. I’m twenty and I’m still basically a kid. Still got shit to go through.”

“I’m not trying to be mean or anything, but, like, how are you… Like, okay, how can you deal with  _just_ being with Josh? Like, you’ve been around him since you were seventeen, and you turn twenty one in about a month, and I’m assuming you want to be with him for a long time. I like--I can’t  _imagine_ being with someone for so long, especially from the time I was seventeen to whenever. Like, I had so many goddamn boyfriends it’s insane.”

“We still aren’t technically monogamous, even though I haven’t slept with anyone else since December last year, and the last time he slept with anyone else was in June before he turned thirty one. He’s real scared he’s going to fuck up and sleep with someone else if we were, like…  _Established_ as exclusive, so I’m fine. I think, like… Not having that pressure, and still being able to come and go and sleep with other people if either of us wanted, like… You’re all traditional and shit, and I’m pretty sure you’re the kind of guy who shames people for having open relationships, but it takes a  _lot_ of pressure off of a relationship, trust me. I mean, we have rules and all, like no sleeping with anyone more than once, no being  _involved_ with anyone else, and a few other things.”

“Has he broken any of them?”

“No, actually. I have. I broke the ones I told you about. I mean, I told him immediately after because I was guilty and shit didn’t work out. Also, that’s another thing. We tell each other if we fuck up and I did that. And we’re fine. That happened when he was--when he was still using and just--just not having a good time, and I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I thought getting an actual, proper boyfriend would fix it, but it didn’t.”

“That’s real shitty of you, man.”

“I know and I’m not denying that. It was really fucking shitty. You know, when he brought me home with him that first time, he told me that he wanted to be the person I thought of every single time I was with anyone else, and he--he fucked me real good that night, let me tell you. And he got his wish. He’s literally there whenever I sleep with anyone else. Even with the other guy, I was still thinking about Josh, like, oh, Josh would’ve done that differently, and Josh is better and whatever else.

“Most of our problem was lack of communication. Like, I told him every time something happened to me, especially after the prom incident, but he would never tell me anything. Until one morning I cornered him in the bedroom, and told him I wasn’t letting him leave until he told me what was going on with him. I’m not gonna tell you what he said, just because I want to respect his privacy, but he said that, and then not a week later he literally overdosed, got fired two days later, and I made him start going to NA and a few other things that, if he wanted, he’d tell you himself. After that, and after the whole cancer thing, he’s just been real open. Like, you’d be so fucking surprised at how many problems communication can solve.”

“You make him a better person, Tyler. You really do. Also, he loves you so fucking much.” And now Brendon’s turning a corner.

“I know. He tells me every single day, like clockwork. He will wake me up before he leaves for work, he will tell me he loves me, and when he comes home, he will kiss me on the lips once, and he will tell me he loves me. If it’s one of the nights I fix dinner, he usually gets really emotional and gives me these, like, puppy dog eyes and you probably don’t believe me, but he says some of the sweetest shit.

“He’s still got his flaws and all, like, tons of them, and we aren’t perfect because we fight sometimes and we bicker and sometimes he sleeps on the couch if we’re pissed off enough at each other, but,” Tyler smiles softly and fondly down at his hands, and he’s picking at a nail before continuing, “we’re--like--we love each other. Like you and Dallon, like Patrick and Pete when they were a thing, like my parents  _used_ to, like Deb and Jen.”

“There’s still a part of me that’s jealous, but, like, I’m happy for you, man. It’s hard to find something like that. I’m afraid I don’t have something like that with Dallon, and it scares me.”

“Do you feel like you’re settling for him?”

Without hesitation, Brendon says, “God, no. I love him more than I love myself, probably. I mean, that’s not saying a lot, since I have deep-sated self esteem issues, but you get what I mean.”

“Then you got something with him. I asked Josh the same thing and he asked me the same thing and we both said ‘no’ without hesitation. You didn’t hesitate. So, like, you got something with Dallon. Anyways, I need to get the things to make chicken alfredo, so we should--we should focus on getting into the store and doing that.”

\---

Josh stares at Tyler with a calculative look on his face, and Tyler just slowly eats while maintaining eye contact with him. His patience only lasts about four minutes before he’s asking, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You’re weird.”

“Pardon?” Tyler has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.

“You’re always so…  _submissive,_ but then that phone call this morning you were all large and in charge and it’s  _weird.”_

“I told you, J. I’m versatile, and I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re secretly a huge bottom.”

Josh squints. “Do you want to test that theory?”

Tyler puts his fork down, and leans back in his chair, giving Josh one of those, “ _You want to bet?”_  faces. “I’ll be honored. After we eat, it is  _on.”_

“Fine. I’m more of a top than you are.”

“We’ll see, Dun. We’ll see.”

\---

Josh and Tyler are in the hall, pulling on each others hair, kissing violently, either trying to take control of the situation, hands running up shirts and tugging at the waistband of pants when the  _doorbell_ goes off.

They stop, almost immediately, and Josh sighs.

“It might be someone important.”

“It might just be Brendon.”

“If it’s Brendon, then maybe something’s wrong with Dallon.”

“He’d just call if it was that, Tyler.”

They detach from each other, and Josh deems Tyler more fit to go answer the door, since his hair is always messy anyways, and since he never gets as red as Josh does, considering Tyler is  _ridiculously_ tan.

Tyler sighs loudly, and walks over to the door, straightening his t-shirt a little bit before opening the door. Tyler’s expecting Brendon, he really is, but he isn’t expecting Josh’s mother to be standing there. Tyler just rolls his eyes, and turns his head to shout, “It’s your mother, Josh!” into the apartment.

Tyler sees him poke his head out of the bedroom, with a weird  _look_ on his face. “Ask her what she wants, Tyler.”

Tyler turns his head back to Josh’s mother. “You heard him. What do you want?”

“I think it’s best if I sort this out with Josh, and not  _you.”_

“Or, you can tell me before I close this  _door_ in your  _face._ I live here, I’m his  _partner_ and have been for three years, and I have more of a say in what happens than you do, so lose your fucking passive aggressive smile and that patronizing tone and  _tell me_ what you want.”

Her jaw drops the slightest bit, and she looks almost as if Tyler had backhanded her. And he kind of did, but with his words. “I just--I would like to speak with my son.”

Tyler sighs and rolls his eyes again before turning his head,  _again,_ saying, “She wants to talk to you, J.”

Tyler sees him scrub a hand down his face, before saying, “Let her in!” while tossing an arm up into the air.

Tyler steps aside so she can come in, and on his way to go talk to Josh privately, he points at one of the bar stools. “Sit there. Don’t touch anything, don’t snoop, and don’t move.” She looks  _miffed_ and  _shocked,_ and Tyler doesn’t even hesitate before stalking back to the bedroom. He closes the door enough to where even a bit of pressure would close it all the way before asking, “What the fuck?”

“If I knew why she was here, I’d tell you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t fucking  _sweetheart_ me right now. Your mom is scarier than my mom, and that’s saying something. What do we do?”

“Whatever she has to say, she can say it in front of you.”

“I--I don’t want to  _be there.”_

“I’m not letting my  _mom_ push me around or intimidate me anymore. I’m not going to  _force you_  but I’d appreciate it, alright?” And now Josh looks a little desperate, maybe even afraid, and--

“Alright. Fine. If I start crying then I’m blaming you, and you’re gonna have to kiss my ass for a week.”

Josh rolls his eyes and pecks Tyler on the lips. “C’mon,  _sweetheart.”_

Tyler playfully smacks his ass on his way out of the bedroom and he all but giggles. Tyler just smiles at him a little dumbly before they go and face the music.

Josh walks around the counter, with Tyler tailing him. Tyler tries being courteous, asking, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine.”

Tyler and Josh look at each other, and Josh is the one to say, “Neither of us drink. We don’t have any wine, or any other sort of alcohol for that matter. We do have some orange and apple juice though…? And, of course, water.”

Tyler’s a little impressed at how… courteous Josh is being. The last time his mother was here, Josh yelled at both her  _and_ him. Admittedly, though, either of them were hungover and crashing pretty hard.

His mother looks far more calculative than Tyler is comfortable with, and, yeah, alright, she’s where Josh gets his scary businessman look from. She says, “Ice water would be fine,” slowly and deliberately. Tyler honestly has no idea how Josh dealt with her growing up. Maybe she was nicer when she thought Josh was straight. Who knows.

“Let’s cut the shit and the pleasantries--what do you want?” Comes Josh’s sharp and sudden demand.

Tyler can tell that he’s anxious. Anger for little to no reason usually means anxiety for Josh. Tyler steps over to a different part of the kitchen where they keep pill bottles, and he finds the one meant for panic attacks. He puts one in his palm, and grabs a can of diet Mountain Dew, opens it, then takes one of Josh’s hands in his own to put the pill in it as he hands him the can of soda. “Take that, and keep your voice down. Don’t get worked up right now.”

Prevention is something that Tyler’s usually good at, and now will not be an exception. If he can stop Josh from having a panic attack, then he will do what it takes to do so. Josh gives him a weird look, one that Tyler meets with a very,  _very_ slightly pointed look. Hopefully subtle enough to where his mother wouldn’t pick up on it.

She does, though, ask, “What’s that for?” in one of those mom tones that means you’re about to get told off.

“Panic attacks,” He replies, simply, and quietly, and Tyler pats him on the back before going to sit at the bar stool that’s at the other end of the counter from Josh’s mother. He turns in it to face her, and takes the can of diet Mountain Dew from Josh when it gets handed to him. Josh doesn’t care for it, but it was the quickest thing Tyler could grab for him.

“You aren’t even  _having_ one,” She says with a scoff.

“Not now but I was probably on the way to one, and my psychiatrist says prevention is important, as does his. I figure I’d follow his instructions.”

She looks shocked. “You--you have  _never_ had  _anxiety_ before.”

Josh mutters, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, how many times am I going to have to have this damn talk with people,” under his breath as he sighs and rubs both of his hands down his face. “I got diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder, thanks to Father, social anxiety, panic disorder, and general anxiety when I was nineteen. I was diagnosed with clinical depression a year and a half ago. I spent a decade drinking copious amounts of booze and doing a plethora of drugs rather than dealing with it and I only started going to Narcotics Anonymous and actually getting help for it last year. I’ve been sober and clean for fifteen, soon sixteen, months.”

Tyler didn’t know about the PTSD but it didn’t particularly surprise him, given some of the horror stories he’d heard about Josh’s dad.

“Okay, so, let me get this right--you’re  _gay_ and you think you have all these  _problems?_ Are you trying to get under my skin?”

“He’s trying to open up to you, and you’re doing a piss poor job at trying to open up to him too. Mrs. Dun, why are you here, if not to invalidate Josh and treat me like the little nelly fag that turned your son gay?” Tyler gives her his own even look.

“I wanted to talk, and I wanted to keep it civil.”

“Then keep it civil and listen to him and don’t make it about yourself. You haven’t been around, trying to help him through a whole  _bunch_ of  _shit._ You’ve been ignoring him and you’ve cut off contact with him because you can’t handle the fact that he’s gay. I can’t speak for Josh, but I’m assuming that it’s taking a  _helluva_ lot of nerve and guts to be talking to you about this when, for the past year and a half, I’ve been one of the two people he comes to.”

She inhales and exhales very carefully, but doesn’t argue with Tyler. “Josh, I would like to apologize for how I have treated you, and I would like to form some sort of… relationship with you. Maybe find some common ground.”

“Alright. I’m--I’m not going to accept it right now, but I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll  _think_ about it?”

Tyler coughs quietly.

“I said I’ll think about it. I don’t have to accept your apology. You haven’t so much as spoken a word to me since you ran out of my apartment two and a half years ago. The only exception was at Dad’s funeral, and even then it was just an obligatory, ‘hi.’ Fuck, you didn’t even answer my phone call when--when I was going to tell you I fucking had  _cancer._ I doubt you even listened to the voicemail I left you.”

“Pardon?  _Cancer_...?”

“Probably runs in the family.”

“Are you…?”’

“I’ve been in remission for six months.”

“Was it lung cancer?”

“Testicular.”

“That--that runs in my family. Christ.” After saying Christ, she does one of those weird cross things that Tyler never really got, what with coming from a family of Seventh Day Adventists who  _don’t_ do that.

“Mother, if we’re to resurrect any sort of relationship that didn’t really even exist in the first place, I’ve got a few conditions.” Josh has both of his hands on the counter, and he’s looking up at her, face totally grave and serious, and Tyler has to admit--he might or might not be a little turned on right now.

“Alright. Let me hear them, and we’ll see.”

“One--I’m not going to fucking church with you. You badgered me about it before I told you I was gay, and, for the love of god, don’t badger me about it now. I’m atheist, I’m gay, and that’s that.” Tyler has to bite his cheek and hide his mouth with his hand by resting his elbow on the counter to make it look like he’s just slouching.

“Alright, no church.”

“Two--you are  _not_ to say anything rude, condescending, snide, invalidating,  _mean, cruel,_ or homophobic to Tyler.” He points at Tyler. “You’re going to treat him with the same respect you treat Jordan’s fiance, you’re not going to try telling either of us that we don’t have a valid relationship, you’re not going to accuse him of being a gold digger, you’re not going to treat him like he’s some little homewrecker, and you’re going to just have to accept that he’s in my life, and that he is not leaving anytime soon. We’re partners, and we both love each other more than you can imagine. I’ve already had this conversation with Brendon about five times. I have a lot of arguments prepared.”

“Josh--”

“No. You either agree to that, and try to work on it, or nothing’s happening.”

“This--this is a lot.”

“Are you going to try?”

“I’ll try.”

“Alright then. Three--no coming here unannounced anymore. Call me or send me a text message. Give me some warning next time. Just--look--I’m not expecting you to join PFLAG or anything, but try. That’s all I want you to do.”

“I can do that, Josh. I can do that. Uh. Tyler.” She turns in the bar stool, and looks at Tyler for the first time in ten minutes. “Do you have anything you want to say…?”

“Thank you, I guess. I--uh--my mom--she hasn’t talked to me more than out of necessity since I was eighteen, and she was kind of a cunt. Like, Josh’s dad kind of cunt, and don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Just--thanks. I can appreciate that you’re trying to do this for Josh.”

After a bit more of small talk, she leaves, and Josh just… He lets out a relieved sigh, and says, “I’m gonna just go to bed. Mood’s ruined.”

Neither of them fall asleep right away, though. In fact, they lay awake, next to each other, not really even touching, just staring at the ceiling, only lit by the dim and barely there light from the moon and the streetlamps far below Josh’s apartment.

“What’d you do for your senior ditch day?”

“Out of all the things that’ve happened within the past month,  _that’s_ what you ask me about?”

“Well? I want to know.”

“Brendon and I got a ladder, and climbed onto the roof of his house and got  _really_ stoned. And then, being the dumb fuck he is, he managed to knock the ladder over, so we were stuck up there for almost eight hours, waiting for his mom to come home to put the ladder back up. How about you?”

“Me and Ash didn’t know. We showed up to school and--and no one was in any of our classes. I would’ve come to your apartment, honestly, but you were working, and you were still… you were still in that phase of acting like you didn’t like me, so we ended up just going to the diner and I used my fake ID to get beer for us to drink while eating hamburgers and a fuck ton of fries.”

“Better than getting a sunburn while being stoned out of your damn mind.”

Tyler tries, he really tries not to laugh, but after letting out the ugliest snort, he just--he has to let himself. Josh elbows him, but still turns his head to give him some dopey look.

Tyler returns the dopey look and ends up scooting closer so he can kiss Josh. It’s not hungry and greedy and vicious like earlier. It’s sweet and soft and gentle and they aren’t pulling on each others hair and they aren’t struggling to get their clothes off like earlier. Though, that last part isn’t saying much since they're both in their underwear. Tyler’s in a pair of briefs that are  _tight_ and that show off his ass. They also have tiny red roses printed all over them, which is a nice contrast to the black. Josh thinks they're cute and Tyler likes feeling cute. Josh, himself, is wearing a pair of black and blue striped briefs, and Tyler  _loves_ how they show off both his ass and his junk. He thinks they're kind of cute too, though.

Josh gently trails the fingers of his right hand up and down Tyler’s spine, and he places his left hand over Tyler’s right hand, which is resting almost daintily on his cheek.

Tyler moves a little closer, throwing a leg over one of Josh’s, not even having any other motive than to just be  _close_ to him. Josh sighs into their kiss, in a content way, and Tyler smiles slightly. It’s hard--no pun intended--to  _not_ pop a boner when making out with Josh--any guy who’d ever made out with him would know, especially Tyler. And he knows he’s not the only one with an interest if the eight inch dick pressed up against his thigh has anything to say about it.

Josh starts sliding his right hand into the back of Tyler’s briefs, but Tyler grabs his wrist, mumbling, “Not tonight, J. Too much work.”

“Even if I do  _everything?”_ Josh tries to reason.

“Yes, even if you do everything. Maybe tomorrow, J. Can we just… enjoy this? For now?”

Josh nods, and kisses Tyler real slowly, mumbling back, “‘Course we can, sweetheart,” and Tyler definitely smiles and kisses Josh’s forehead before going back to kissing him on the lips.

\---

A lot of things happen in two weeks: Josh lands three really big clients, all from Innox, of course, Jenna’s pregnant, and Tyler gets a call from some record label based out of Seattle wanting to sign him. Tyler asks around in his friend group, asking if anyone could take any time off of work to pretend to be his manager so they could scope things out together, and the only person Tyler’s able to get a yes out of is  _Brendon._

Dallon has work, Pete can’t afford to take any time off because he’s working two jobs right now, Josh can’t afford to lose Patrick for a week or two, Josh, himself, is busy as hell, Debby and Jenna are working on preparing for what’s in store for the next nine months, and Ashley just--Ashley looks younger than Tyler does.

But Brendon, on the other hand, is in his thirties, has a sophisticated sense of fashion, and he’s good at bullshitting, so, aside from Josh, Dallon, and Pete, he’s his next best choice. Patrick would’ve been an alright choice, but he’s shy, and doesn’t speak with confidence unless he’s around friends. Tyler would’ve settled if he’d been his only choice, though.

Brendon and Tyler sit down at Josh’s dining table, and hash a few things out. Brendon’s running on a tight budget as it is with his store, since Tyler hasn’t done anything in a year, and Tyler only has two thousand dollars in his bank account, since he  _just_ splurged and bought a few nice things for himself for his music anyways, so Brendon looks at Tyler, saying, “Our only other choice is to ask Josh, or have no money for hotels, and I don’t want you to blow half your savings, if not more, just to get us there.”

“I know he’ll say yes, but I still feel bad.”

“Okay, do you want to sleep on a bench in the middle of fucking November in Seattle, or do you want to ask your boyfriend, who is, literally, a millionaire, to give you enough money for us to get to and from Seattle, and for us to stay in a good hotel?”

“You know he’s going to spend a fuck ton of money on a hotel,” Tyler says as he runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “He has a tendency to spoil me.”

“Good. Take advantage of it.”

“No. I’m not taking advantage of him. I’ll take advantage of him if I need him to work a few of his… connections for me, and to promote me, but I won’t take advantage of him like that.”

“Just go ask him, Tyler.”

“He doesn’t get home until nine, Brendon, and it’s two.”

“Then go to his office?”

“He has meetings all afternoon, then a doctor’s appointment, a counseling session, an appointment with his  _psychiatrist,_ then NA. Either you stick around until then, or you go home, and I’ll just tell you what he says.”

“One condition: We let Dallon bring us take-out. Like Josh with you, he has a tendency to spoil me.” Brendon smirks and laughs softly.

“I’m down, man. I’d suck a dick for a carton of rice if I had to. I won’t suck his dick, for obvious reasons, but spiritually I’m already on my knees.”

“Condoms exist, Tyler,” Brendon sing-songs at him as he gets up to lead the way to Josh’s living room. “Are you guys--do you guys  _seriously_ not keep  _any_ alcohol around? I could  _so_ go for a glass of scotch.”

Tyler follows him and replies once he, himself, is settled into one of the arm chairs. “Yes, Brendon, we don’t keep any alcohol around. The only alcohol we have is rubbing alcohol in case one of us hurts ourselves, and usually we just use hydrogen peroxide anyways if that happens. I’ve had a few drinks, not at home, and not with him around, but usually it’s just a beer at a bar  _rarely._ Both of us know that if there was any alcohol around, he’d probably slip up, and neither of us want that happening.”

Brendon just makes a ‘hm’ noise as he slouches down in the couch, and puts his feet on the coffee table as he picks up the remote. He points it at the TV, turning it on by pressing the button, and Tyler watches him go through the TV Guide, trying to find  _something_ to watch for the next seven hours.

“Can we watch, like… Malcolm in the Middle reruns?” Brendon asks this, looking at Tyler curiously.

“God, yes. I love that show.”

“Dude, seriously?” Brendon looks… shocked.

“Uh,  _yeah?_ It’s fucking hilarious, and it’s my go-to if Josh ain’t home or if I’m just in general real bored. Or if I need a pick-me-up.’

Tyler is shocked, but he  _bonds_ with Brendon over Malcolm in the fucking Middle. They still aren't the best of friends but they at least aren't at each other's throats every few minutes.

Josh gets home around the time Tyler said he would, and he’s a little surprised Brendon is still in the apartment, plus Dallon, who had just stayed after bringing food.

Josh pulls Tyler into the kitchen, to talk to him in a hushed tone. “Why is he still here?”

“We had to ask you something and he just… Didn’t leave, I guess.”

Josh sighs quietly and presses his palms against his eyes.

“Are you… okay?”

“Had a long day and evening. Was hoping to come home to  _just_ you.”

“You can go like… sulk in the bedroom or whatever after I ask you about the thing.”

“What do you need?”

“Money. Listen--I hate asking, but neither me or Brendon have enough money for flights  _and_ hotels. I only have two grand, and he has maybe four but that’s reserved solely for bills and his store.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself,” Josh mumbles quietly as he pulls his checkbook out of his pocket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Oh, um, I didn’t mean right now.”

“May as well before I forget. Anyways, pen. Please?”

Tyler nods and walks over to poke around Josh’s desk long enough to find a ballpoint for him. Once he’s standing in front of him again, and just as Josh is about to take it, Tyler holds it  _just_ out of his reach. “I want a kiss in exchange.”

“That’s  _my_ pen.”

“Which I spent thirty seconds finding for you.”

“I’m about to write you a check for ten thousand dollars, Tyler.”

“Thirty seconds is thirty seconds Josh.”

The man rolls his eyes and leans down, pulling Tyler into a kiss that is long, hot, and sort of messy that leaves Tyler red in the face, looking shocked. Josh takes the pen after that and scribbles down his signature, the amount of money, and Tyler’s name, then hands him the check. “Keep whatever you don’t spend.”

Tyler smiles slightly smugly and stands up on the tips of his toes to peck Josh on the lips, saying, “Thank you,” in a cutesy tone that makes Josh make a ‘pft’ noise at him.

\---

“He gave you  _ten grand?”_ Brendon stares at Tyler incredulously.

“I said I needed money for flights and hotel rooms, so he gave me this much.” Tyler shrugs before going back to filling out paperwork necessary for flying since he hasn't ever flown before and since the September eleven attacks were still fresh in the minds of most everyone. “He said not to stay in a cheap hotel either.”

Brendon huffs and mutters something about Josh spoiling Tyler before Tyler’s stuffing a round trip ticket from Columbus to Seattle into Brendon’s hand. “First class. Be thankful.”

“Do you know how shady it looks when a twenty year old buys two first class plane tickets?”

“Do I care? Anyways, it’s boarding soon, so c’mon.” Tyler hooks his arm around Brendon’s and gets to dragging him through the airport.

Just before Tyler turns his phone off, he gets a string of texts from Josh.

 

 **Josh:** hope your flight goes good

 **Josh:** Call me once you're at your hotel

 **Josh:** I worry

 **Tyler:** chill homo. its about to board so ill call you in like. idk. ten hours. even if ur asleep.

 **Josh:** I might be a little cranky but go for it. :)

 **Tyler:** :) <3

\---

Seattle isn’t what Tyler expected. It’s not raining, but rather snowing lightly, and it’s bitterly cold. Tyler gives Brendon the task of calling a cab to a five star hotel that Josh had suggested, since he’s exhausted and not in the mood to talk to anyone else.

Tyler has to share a room with Brendon, and it’s big, but the only con is that there’s only one king sized bed in the room. Brendon looks as exhausted and as frustrated as Tyler feels. “Do you care if we share a bed, Tyler?”

“At this point, I don’t. At least there’s a balcony. Uh. I’m going to change then call Josh. He told me to call once we were at the hotel.”

“Clingy. Never pegged him for the type.”

Tyler shrugs. “Probably an anxiety thing. He worries.”

Brendon clicks his tongue before calling dibs on the first shower.

After Tyler changes into pajamas, he digs around his suitcase until he finds his lighter, then grabs the pack of cigarettes from the pocket of Brendon’s wool coat before stepping onto the balcony. He doesn’t like making a habit of smoking, mostly because of Josh, but sometimes cigarettes help calm him, for whatever reason.

He presses and holds the ‘two’ key, which is the key he’d set to speed dial Josh’s number after he’s lit the cigarette, and while he’s in the middle of taking a drag.

_“It’s later than I expected.”_

“It’s like… I think it’s eleven in Ohio.”

_“Midnight.”_

“Ah. Why’d you want me to call you?” Tyler tries to subtly exhale the smoke but ends up coughing a little bit.

_“Having a bad day. I felt… Paranoid this morning. Wanted to just… make sure.”_

“Okay, well, I’m fine, man. All that happened was a bit of turbulence. Also, it’s cold as shit here. I’m on the balcony right now. Brendon’s showering anyways, but I like the illusion of privacy.”

_“No separate rooms?”_

“Nah. There’s only one bed though. We’re both too tired to change rooms. We are… real high up.”

_“Brendon cuddles in his sleep. Doesn’t matter how big the bed is, so don’t be surprised if he lays on you or tries to spoon ya.”_

“Oh, please. I’d just shove him off. Either that or I’d forget I wasn’t at home and think it was you and reciprocate, which would make for an awkward morning after.”

Tyler can hear Josh giggling sleepily and it brings a smile to his face.

“How was work, and your day in general?”

_“It was there. Had meetings most of the day. Came home, ordered take out, ate, watched some porn, watched a movie, then more porn. I’ve had an exciting evening.”_

“You watched porn  _twice?_ I’m supposed to be the one with stamina.”

Tyler can feel the eyeroll.  _“I was bored. How am I going to deal with two weeks of this?”_

“Just a week, actually. I’m thinking of turning this down, honestly. Want to find someone based out of Ohio.”

_“Either you accept that offer, or wait for someone from either LA or New York to approach you. Ohio isn’t exactly buzzing with musicians wanting to make it big.”_

“Yes,  _Dad._ I haven’t even talked to the people yet. I just don’t want to have to move or something, because I can’t afford to live on my own yet.”

_“I’d pay your rent if that makes a difference.”_

“I wouldn't let you. Too much pride. I’d just have to get a job or something.”

_“Get a minimum wage job and live in a crappy neighborhood? You have expensive tastes. You’d die.”_

“Expensive tastes thanks to  _you._ You spoil me. I can’t help that I won’t settle for anything but the best.” Tyler’s using a tone that makes his sarcasm obvious.

_“I just stuck my tongue out. I’m… very sleepy. Forgot you can’t see me.”_

“Maybe one day it’ll be possible to be on the phone but also see each other.”

_“Better be, or I’ll sue.”_

“Sue  _who?”_ Tyler grins a little stupidly and laughs lightly.

_“Microsoft, Apple… Whoever owns MSN Messenger.”_

“Microsoft, Josh. Microsoft owns MSN Messenger. I’m going to let you go back to sleep, mostly since I need to sleep. My body thinks it’s midnight, even though it’s nine here.”

_“Good luck with the stuff.”_

“Thanks, man.” Tyler shifts back and forth on his feet for a few moments, debating, before saying, “I love you.”

Tyler can hear Josh yawn, before he’s sleepily mumbling back, “Love you too, sweetheart,” which makes Tyler grin like no other

The call ends after that, and Tyler stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table outside before stepping back into the room. Brendon’s not wearing a shirt, and Tyler, being the somewhat slutty twenty year old he is, says, “Huh,” as he checks the older man out. Brendon is actually kind of hot. Not Josh level hot, but if he were single, and, well, if Tyler didn't know him, he would definitely hit it. He’s not ripped or anything, but he’s lean, and looks kind of like a twink.

“Stop checking me out.”

“I always thought you were like… skinnier than that.”

“Are you implying that I’m fat?”

“No, man. You’re more muscular than I thought. That’s what I should have said.”

“I don’t work out three times a week for nothing,” He mutters as he scans the room service menu. “I could order caviar. Expensive caviar. Or, I could order a twenty five dollar hamburger. Better have fuckin’ gold in it for that price. Jesus.”

“Call and ask if they take debit cards. Also, hand me the menu. I wanna look.”

Tyler steps over to him, and holds his hand out for the menu. Brendon squints at him for a second or two before finally giving it to him. While the order man is calling whoever, Tyler isn’t sure, he debates heavily on what he wants to eat.

He could order shrimp, he could order waffles, he could order  _wine,_ and, hell, he could order all three. He figures the hamburger is a safe bet, until Brendon’s saying, “They aren’t open past nine, so we’re fucked.”

“Think we could just order a pizza?”

“I saw a Burger King about a block from here.”

“We aren’t even dressed, and it’s snowing.”

“You aren’t even wearing a shirt  _or_ pants but you were on the balcony talking to Josh.”

“I stand by my statement. You’re the man here. Go get Burger King.”

“Since when?”

“Since just now. Treat me like a princess.”

“For one thing, you aren’t  _my_ boyfriend, and another thing--you’re an adult and you’re perfectly capable of doing that on your own. Also, isn’t it Josh’s job to do that?”

“I want everyone to treat me like royalty. Not just him.”

Brendon just huffs and shakes his head. “What do you want?”

“A chicken sandwich and as many fries as you can get.”

“Are you bulimic? You eat more in a day than I eat in a month but you’re skinny as hell.” Brendon jokes as he puts on a shirt and pulls on a jacket.

“I actually don’t eat that much. I have no appetite, a fast metabolism, and I exercise regularly.”

“You lucky little fuck.”

\---

Tyler curses Josh for being right about Brendon cuddling in his sleep. He wakes up to morning wood pressed against his ass and an uncharacteristically tattooed arm (meaning it isn’t Josh’s, since he doesn’t have any tattoos) thrown across his back. Tyler’s too tired to do anything, so he just sighs, and lays there, waiting for Brendon to either move or to wake up.

Tyler’s last straw isn’t when the other man starts rolling his hips a little bit, but it’s when he mumbles, “Dallon, wake up.”

At that, Tyler pushes himself up, and shoves Brendon off of him. “Get off me, asshole. I’m not Dallon.”

Brendon fucking  _whines_ and rolls over, pulling the duvet over himself and curling up into a ball.

Tyler sighs as throws his legs over the side of the bed as he gets up. He sends Josh a quick text before he showers.

 

 **Tyler:** woke up to morning wood on my right ass cheek and being called dallon. fun times.

 

The water pressure in the hotel is alright, thankfully. Tyler definitely cranks it to be hotter than necessary, a habit picked up from Josh, as he scrubs his body and his hair with soap and shampoo. He also stays in the shower twenty minutes longer than necessary, just to try and let the tension in his shoulders and back be washed away by the hot water of the shower.

Today is the day he has a meeting with whoever the hell--he can’t be bothered to remember right now, but today is the day that that’s supposed to be happening. The meeting isn’t for another few hours, so he has time to finish his shower, style his hair properly for once, get dressed, and get breakfast before being due in some huge corporate building.

Brendon has a suit packed with him for this specific occasion, thankfully. Tyler isn’t sure what kind of suit he’s going to be wearing, but he prays it isn’t one of his tacky ones with glittery blazers and gaudy ties.

He’s pleased to see the man wearing something traditionally formal when he walks out of the bathroom with a towel hanging lowly on his hips. Brendon makes a face, asking, “Couldn’t you have just gotten dressed in the bathroom?”

“You’ve literally seen me balls deep in Josh before. I think you can deal with me getting clothes out of my suitcase.” Tyler just rolls his eyes as he steps over to, y’know, his suitcase.

“Also, I saw you stole a cigarette from me. I’m going to sue.”

“Eat me. I haven’t smoked a cigarette since May,” Tyler grumbles out as he throws a pair of jeans in the general direction of the bed. He digs out a t-shirt and Josh’s varsity jacket. “Should I wear anything else?”

“Different jacket, probably. That’s a little obnoxious.”

“It’s a perfectly fine,  _and warm,_ jacket.”

“It’s a varsity jacket. It’s not exactly formal.”

“I’m not dressing up like a stiff businessman. That’s your job right now. If I dress formal, that's what they're going to expect from me.”

Brendon just grunts. “Where do you want to get breakfast at? It's either here or a restaurant. I would prefer to go to a restaurant because complementary breakfast makes me gag. They always leave eggs out too long. It’s disgusting.”

“For someone who makes forty grand a year  _at most_ you sure are picky.”

“I was with Ryan for almost a year.”

“ _Oh._ Uh. Well, shit.”

\---

The shit with the record label ends up tanking, of course.

Tyler gets asked a bunch of questions, and there were two in particular that he apparently answered wrong.

“Are you gay?”

Tyler’s open about his sexualtiy. He wouldn’t ever even dare to hide it, especially after the incident at his prom, so, he answers honestly; “Yes.”

Then he’s asked if he’s in a relationship with a man, and, again, he answers honestly, and long story short, he’s told that he essentially needs to go back into the closet, so Tyler just… leaves the room. There’s  _nothing_ that’s going to make him go back into the closet. Brendon follows him down the hall from the conference room and to the elevator, saying, “Dude; that was the chance of a _lifetime.”_

“Don’t give a shit. Elton John and Freddie Mercury are both legends. Elton’s gay and Freddie’s bisexual.”

“And they weren’t out of the closet right away, Tyler.” Brendon’s grabbing his shoulder, and he’s making Tyler look him in the face.

“Brendon, I almost got killed for being gay, and I  _refuse_ to go back into the closet. Being gay--that’s not even important to me, and it has nothing to do with my music other than I write about guys, and half the time I don’t even use pronouns--it’s all metaphorical and vague. Being gay doesn’t affect my talent, it doesn’t affect how good my songs are, and, I just--I’m not going to be signing any contracts until someone’s alright with me being gay. It’s not like I’m going to be fucking flaunting it. That ain’t my game, but if someone asked, I’d tell them the truth.”

“This could’ve been your only shot at a career!” And now Brendon is giving him his usual fucking look of incredulity, and Tyler just about rolls his damn eyes.

“There will be other chances! If I have to, I’ll make it on my own, with no help from any freaking record label or whatever. I refuse to censor myself.”

“Who says anything about censoring yourself? If you play your cards right, you’ll have the upper hand.”

“I was in there arguing with them for, like, ten minutes. They aren’t going to budge if they won’t even  _consider_ letting me be out. I don’t even think this was the right choice anyways. I didn’t walk in there with a good feeling, and I’m sorry, but I’m going with my gut, and don’t feed me some load of shit about how I’m twenty and that I can’t decide things for myself. Just trust me on this one, alright?”

Brendon huffs and frowns a little bit, but doesn’t say anything as he releases his grip on Tyler’s shoulder, and letting him lead the way to the elevator.

\---

The rest of Tyler's week goes terribly. He gets into it with Brendon the day after the meeting, and ends up having the first panic attack he's had since May, mostly due to some of the hurtful things Brendon had said to him.

Brendon tried apologizing the minute Tyler started tearing up, but the twenty year old had just kicked him out of the hotel, telling him to fuck off for a few hours. After getting himself calmed down enough to talk properly, Tyler tries calling Josh first, to talk mostly, but gets a text from Debby, telling him that Josh was in a meeting, so Dallon ends up being the one he calls next.

 _He_ actually answers his phone, asking,  _“Do you need anything?”_

“Your fucking  _boyfriend_ is being a dick and I just--I had a panic attack and he immediately tried kissing my ass and--”

Dallon cuts him off.  _“Slow down, Tyler. Start from the beginning.”_

“We got into a  _fight_.”

_“Alright. Why were the two of you fighting?”_

“He was throwing the thing with the record label in my face because I went with my gut and didn't sign anything or agree to any  _terms.”_

_“Why was he throwing it in your face?”_

“He said I was  _dumb_ and a bunch of other mean shit, so I snapped and yelled back and said a bunch of mean things too and ended up having a panic attack.”

Tyler can hear Dallon sigh.  _“He has a tendency to run his mouth and say things he doesn’t mean if he’s mad. Do you want me to have a word with him?”_

“He’s going to tell me that I tattled on him to you.”

_“I was going to tell him to go easy on you. Your year hasn’t exactly been easy, Tyler. I’m sure having someone twelve years your senior yelling at you is stressful, especially after all the shit you’ve gone through. Let me talk to him, and he’ll be in there genuinely apologizing to you in about ten or twenty minutes.”_

“If only he listened to everyone else like that.”

Tyler can hear the snort.  _“The only pro of Brendon being in love with you is him listening to you.”_

“I’m sure. Talk to him, I guess.”

Dallon tells Tyler to keep his chin high, and makes sure he’s alright before hanging up to, presumably, call Brendon.

And Dallon’s right. Within twenty minutes, Brendon’s back in the room, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, apologizing.

Anyways, that was just  _Tuesday,_ and they’re due back in Columbus on  _Friday_.

On Wednesday, Tyler’s in a cab, with Brendon, on their way to a mall to dick around for a while, when a car crashes into the side of the cab after running a red light.

Tyler’s informed by a paramedic that he’s lucky he didn’t die, and that he’s lucky he only got away with a broken arm, a broken  _wrist_ , whiplash, and a few lacerations on his face and body from shattered glass. (He finds out later that he also has a concussion to top it all off.)

Brendon basically gets off scot free, only having whiplash, a concussion, and a busted nose from hitting his face against the seat in front of him. He doesn’t even need  _surgery_ for the busted nose.

Right off the bat, Tyler says, “Don’t call Josh,” to Brendon, but of course, he doesn’t listen.

Tyler sleeps for a good day or so, and when he  _finally_ wakes up, he sees Josh, staring at him, looking either pissed off or worried. Tyler can't tell. Morphine is one hell of a drug.

“I can’t tell if that’s your mad face,” he mumbles as he shifts a bit.

“It’s my mad, worried, scared, kind of upset, and having bad memories kind of face,” Josh answers, bluntly, without so much as a blink.

“Why mad?”

“Why didn’t you want Brendon to call me?”  _Pointed look._

“‘Cause I knew you’d turn up, and you’re supposed to be busy this week.”

“Deb and Patrick can handle the meetings for now, Tyler. Also, I’m your next of kin, apparently, you little hypocrite, so I probably would’ve gotten called anyways.”

“I didn’t know. Don’t start getting snippy with me.” Tyler closes his eyes and sighs as he tilts his head up towards the ceiling.

“You could have  _died,_ yet you didn’t want me to  _know?”_ Oh, and now he’s using the quiet whisper-yell. Tyler sighs quietly at the quiet whisper-yell.

“I would’ve told you on Friday or something,” Comes Tyler’s slow and seemingly careful response.

“On  _Friday or something?_ You’re going to actually die one day and the only way I’m going to find out is if you just magically fucking come back from the grave to tell me.”

Tyler opens his eyes long enough to glare. “Knock it off, Josh. I have a concussion and I’m on a morphine drip. Not in the mood to fight right now."

“I’m not trying to  _fight._ Do you just--do you not  _trust me?_ Is that it?”

Tyler mutters, “Oh my god,” under his breath before shouting, “This isn’t about whether or not I  _trust_ you!” at Josh. “If I wasn’t in fucking  _Seattle_ I would’ve told you, so if you’re going to ride my ass then  _go home._ You act like I’m not scared or upset either. The last time I was in a hospital I  _actually_ could have fucking died, so imagine how that feels.”

Josh sighs, shakily, and scrubs his hands down his face.

“Give me your hand, asshole,” Tyler’s instructing as he turns his left hand to be facing palm up.

Josh obeys, and Tyler squeezes Josh’s fingers as best as he can with three of his own. (His index finger has one of those thingies that keep track of your pulse. Tyler forgets what they’re called. Only Tyler. Not the metaphorical author. Nope.) “I’m assuming I’m going to be kept here for another day, hopefully not, though. After that, we can totally just go home, and have copious amounts of wild sex.”

“You have whiplash and your right arm is messed up. I don’t think we could have sex.”

Tyler wiggles his eyebrows as best as he can, groggily replying with, “We can if you ride me”

“God, you’re worse than I am. Shut  _up_.”

Tyler cackles. “How bout it though? You wanna take a ride on the Tyler express?”

“Are you implying that your dick is a train?”

Tyler nods, sincerely. “Yep.”

Josh huffs softly and plants a gentle kiss onto Tyler’s fingers. “I’ll look into it.”

“You better make a show out of it, Josh.”

“Quit while you’re ahead, Tyler.”

\---

The one good thing that Tyler gets out of being hurt or sick is Josh kissing up to him. Okay, not necessarily kissing up to him, but Josh is the kind of guy who refuses to let Tyler so much as lift a finger, especially with a broken wrist and a broken arm.

Whether or not Josh wants to admit it, he's a  _total_ gentleman. He carries Tyler's suitcase and carry on from the hotel to the bus they take to the airport instead of a cab for obvious reasons, then he carries them through the airport,  even with Tyler gripping his arm along the way.

Brendon had just gone home without Tyler after a  _talking to_ from Josh, mostly to recover from the incident in his own home, with his own boyfriend. Tyler figures Dallon is going to hover a bit around Brendon, but will leave him alone for the most part, unlike Josh.

Josh  _hates_ being coddled, and he hates when people hover, but he's  _totally_ a hypocrite. Every time Tyler gets sick, or whenever he's hurt, Josh pesters him, making sure he's alright. Tyler doesn't really mind, for the most part, unless he's sleeping, but even then he just nods and mumbles out affirmations and reassurances just to put Josh at ease, since he figures it's an anxiety thing.

Present time, Tyler’s standing in the elevator in Josh's apartment complex, staring at a spot on the door, trying to focus on getting his head to stop spinning, and trying to shove memories of the prom incident that had suddenly resurfaced to the back of his mind. Josh has an almost protective arm around the younger man's shoulders, holding him close to his side, even though  the elevator ride only lasts a minute or two. (Other people were using it as well.)

Tyler gets himself situated on one of the bar stools after giving Josh permission to put his things away for him. He crosses his arms on the counter, and puts his head in them, ignoring how uncomfortable the cast covering half of his arm feels against his forehead, and ignoring the pain his arm is in in general.

Josh comes walking back into the general area of the kitchen and the space near it containing the dining table, slowly, almost silently. The only thing that gives him away is the way his dress shoes  _clack_ against the hardwood in the dining room, and the way he squeezes Tyler’s shoulder on his way past him.

“Do you want me to cook something…?”

“No offense, but you’re kind of a lousy chef unless it’s spaghetti, soup, or pancakes.” Tyler mumbles as he lifts his head up.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tyler.” Tyler watches the subtle eye roll. “You haven’t eaten anything more than a small bag of Cheetos since Thursday. It’s Saturday.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care. You  _need_ to eat. You’re left handed anyways, so you can hold a fork or a spoon or even chopsticks.” Josh isn’t even using one of his pointed tones with Tyler, but rather one of his soft  _would you please just listen to me_ tones.

“No diner. It’s ten, so Pete’s shift has already started. He’s gonna be up my ass because of the casts and the cuts on my face.”

“I don’t know any other places that are open at this time of night that don’t have disgusting food.”

“I could just cook, y’know.”

“You are not cooking.”

“Stop coddling me.”

“I’m not  _trying_ to coddle you. I’m trying to make sure you don’t  _starve._ Your weight fluctuates more than Brendon’s temper.”

“And you care  _why?”_

“Why are you being difficult with me?”  _Ah, yes, the high pitched and close to shouting voice. Neat._

“I’m in a shitty mood?”

“Will you just let me take care of you right now?”

Tyler grunts as he gets off of the bar stool, kicking his shoes off before walking down the hall and to the bedroom. Tyler wants to scream when he hears Josh following him, and ends up just about slapping him when he feels a hand on his bicep.  _“Will you leave me alone?!_ I just want to take a fucking shower, then go to  _fucking bed,_ then get up and go get something to eat  _tomorrow._ I’m  _tired._ Quit fucking hovering and just--just--go to bed or something.”

Josh looks like a kicked puppy and Tyler feels bad, but he just opts to avoid looking at him as he grabs a bag from his suitcase, and a roll of sports tape from one of the drawers next to Josh’s bed before he stomps over to the bathroom, and slams the door behind him.

\---

Josh pretends to be asleep when he hears the shower shutting off, and when Tyler opens the door. He  _does_ peek when he hears a towel hitting the floor and can't help the quiet, “Your ass is cute,” that makes Tyler jump and throw a sock at him.

“Dick. You aren't allowed to startle me.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Josh asks as he sits up, letting his duvet fall from his chest to low on his hips.

“I wasn’t mad. Just… irritable. Too much has happened in the past week. I need some time to cool off.”

“Oh. Sorry?”

“Don’t worry, Josh. You’re worried and you have every right to be. I just don’t want to be smothered right now.

\---

Dallon’s in an actual classroom for once, since another teacher needed to use the lecture hall during one of his classes, so he settled for the classroom with the most seats. His class barely manages to fit into the room, and Dallon forgets he’s in close proximity with at least the first row, meaning most everyone can see track marks on his arms.

It’s not like they’re super obviously or anything. In fact, it’s almost the opposite. Mostly they’re just round, slightly discolored scars, but that obviously doesn’t stop a guy from asking, “Are those track marks on your arms?”

Dallon freezes, even stops writing on the chalkboard, and, honestly, he doesn’t even have any  _words_ to explain himself. He could say he had an abusive dad, that they’re scars from cigarettes, but that’s not true--his father is a wonderful guy, and wouldn’t even dream of doing that.

Dallon could lie, and say he had that one skin picking disease, but if he did, he’d have more sores all over his body and not just scars. He could say he donated blood, but that wouldn’t explain why there’s track marks in the middle of his forearm, so he just answers, “They are. I’ve been clean for almost eleven years, though.”

He’s quiet, real quiet, as is the room. No one says anything. Hell, no one is sure on what to even say. Someone else in the room asks, “What are track marks?”

Dallon closes the textbook in his hand after marking his spot and setting his piece of chalk down. He clears off a space on the desk in the room, and sits on it, hands clasped together between his knees. “Track marks are marks, or scars, that drug addicts get from shooting up whichever drug they’re using.”

A few people gasp, and someone else asks, “Are you a drug addict?” in an incredulous tone.

Dallon looks at the girl, dead in the eyes, even from across the room. “I used to be. I’m basically the poster boy for anti-drug commercials. I fell in with a bad crowd when I started college, and I was--I was real depressed, didn’t know who to go to or how to get help for it, and one of them told me that they had something that would help. Now, imagine being a suicidal eighteen year old who really just wants  _something_ to quit feeling that way. So, for five years, I was doing that shit, and I quit going to college around the time I was twenty, because I lost my scholarship because I was too busy dicking around and getting high to come to class.”

“Why’d you quit?”

Dallon lets out a breath. “Long story short, I used a dirty needle, and I got sick at some point with something simple. I think it was just a cold, but it put me in the hospital, and aside from finding heroin in my blood, I tested positive for HIV. My immune system was shot to hell, and I’m really fucking lucky I didn’t die. Went to rehab, got my shit together, finished my degree, and here I am.”

“Isn’t HIV that thing that  _fags_ get though?”

Dallon gets it, he gets the ignorance, he was like that when he was a teenager, and right now he’s going to try to peacefully put a stop to it. “Straight people can get it as much as gay men and women do. I tend to just let people think I let someone fuck me without a condom, because it’s obviously a sensitive subject for me, but that’s not--that’s not how it happened. Anyways, we need to get on with th--”

“Wait wait wait--are you  _gay?”_ Asks another guy, wide eyed and shocked.

“I teach music history at an art school and I wear pants and shirts that are a size too small. What do you think?”

\---

On his walk home to an empty apartment, since Brendon’s in Washington with Tyler, Dallon gets to thinking about and reflecting on his life. The little incident in the classroom earlier just… It really makes him think. Dallon doesn’t like dwelling on things, given he doesn’t know when he’s going to die, because it could be tomorrow, or it could be in forty years; he doesn’t have the time or luxury to dwell on things. Usually.

Dallon likes to let people make assumptions about his life, about how things have gone for him, but a lot of it is just… wrong. He’s not an overly open person. He’s open with Josh, and his NA group, plus his therapist, but other than them, he’s a tight lipped sonuva bitch. (He hasn’t gone in depth on his…  _backstory_ with Josh yet, though, but that’s going to change soon.)

Most of the reason he doesn’t like being open is due to the stigma against HIV, and all the ways people are so misinformed and ignorant. It’s the disease  _fags_ get, and Dallon would definitely argue with everyone, saying he’s the exception, but… Well, he’s gay. He didn’t contract the virus from having unprotected sex, and on one hand he gets just a little annoyed when people do assume that, but on the other he just…

Well, you know. It’d be a little redundant to explain that. Again.

\---

Dallon ends up at Josh’s apartment that night, mostly to hang out and to offer his insight on a few personal things. Similar to the other times the two of them have hung out at Josh’s apartment when Tyler isn't there, they push the man’s coffee table to the other side of the room, and lay on the floor next to each other, eating whatever junk food Dallon decides to show up with. (He tends to favor plain Lays, but sometimes he mixes it up and buys a bag of puffy Cheetos.)

“Is there anything we haven’t talked about?” Dallon asks with a tiny yawn before delicately placing a potato chip into his mouth.

“We haven’t given each other our life stories yet? I mean, you know general stuff about mine, but you’re kind of a mystery.” Josh burps and raises his eyebrows as he looks over to his friend.

“You want to hear my life story?”

“Not like we have anything else to do unless you want to watch reruns of Days of our Lives.”

“Alright, alright. Well--”

\---

_You were born in Salt Lake City, Utah, on the fourth of May in 1969. Your childhood is pretty alright up until about the time you turn eight or nine. You can’t remember--you’re thirty four at the moment. You can’t be expected to remember the moment you realized that you might be gay._

_The second, like, the actual_ second  _you noticed that you were looking at boys the way you should’ve been looking at girls, you felt the biggest pang of_ guilt  _shoot through your little body. You’ve had a bunch of crushes on boys before, but you never realized it until you had a talk with your childhood best friend, Dan, about girls._

_He’d explained how he felt whenever he looked at them, how he got butterflies in his stomach, and how he couldn’t stop smiling whenever he looked at his crush, and on the inside, your brain halts, and it’s basically just an, “Oh,” kind of moment for you._

_Of course, that also happens to be the week your church starts talking about_ queers,  _and it’s when you’re taught that it’s wrong. It’s wrong for you to like other boys. If you like other boys, you’re going to go to hell, and God just--God won’t love you. Of course, later in your life, you find out that God would love you regardless of your sexuality and whatever hardships you’d gone through, but when you’re a scared eight year old who hasn’t known anything other than ignorant sermons, it has a lasting effect that, to this day, still affects you, even if it’s only in small bursts every few months._

 _Throughout the rest of your time in elementary school, middle school, and the majority of high school, you repress every single_ gay feeling  _you have. Once you’re a freshman, you start getting depressed, and that’s also about the time you start sleeping with as many girls as you can, until just giving up in your junior year and accepting that, yeah, you’re gay. You’re definitely gay. (Also, by giving up, you mean that you made out with a senior named Ryan Ross and popped a hard on within a minute.)_

_You graduate at the top of your class, Valedictorian of course, and you have a bunch of scholarships thrown your way. You choose to go to a school in Idaho called Northwest Nazarene University, which is in a town with about 27,000 people called Nampa._

_The town is kind of dumpy, and just a shady place in general, but the college is good, and you figure if you get a degree in economics, you could move to New York and maybe be a stockbroker. It’s a far fetched dream, honestly, but you spent most of high school taking classes to prepare you to major in that specific field, so you weren’t about to back out of it. Also, majoring in economics was kind of a condition for your full ride._

_You’re living in a shitty apartment with one bedroom, one bathroom, a small kitchen, and a living room that you only ever managed to find just a couch for. You hated the fucking place, but you didn’t know anyone, and you weren’t exactly overflowing with money, since working at McDonald’s on the weekends wasn’t exactly lucrative. (Your parents paid your rent and gave you a little bit of extra money to spend on yourself, but you still find that getting a job ends up being necessary, unfortunately.)_

_1987 is a shitty year for you in general, though. You graduated in June, by September, you’re in some town you don’t know anything about, and by_ December  _, you’re on the verge of being suicidal when a very pretty and very nice girl in your calculus class approaches you in a courtyard. You were just smoking a cigarette, and glaring at the snow that was falling in thick layers that were sure to make the roads a nightmare to drive on, wishing you were anywhere else besides the middle of bumfuck Idaho._

_It takes you a while to recall her name--Wendy? Windy? Wait--right, right, Breezy. It was Breezy. She’s still stuck in the 70’s, rocking that Farrah Fawcett hairstyle, leather jackets, not to mention high waisted pants and combat boots. Her outfit sounds like it should’ve been a mess, but, honestly, it wasn’t. She managed to make it work._

_Her pretty eyes are a little bloodshot, you’re pretty sure there isn’t enough concealer or foundation in the world that would’ve been able to cover up the dark circles under her eyes, and you’re also pretty sure that, no matter how much black or red lipstick she wore, she couldn’t hide her chapped lips._

_You like her, though, and you think that, in an alternate universe where you weren’t gay, and she wasn’t a heroin addict, you probably would’ve married her._

_She motions for you to hand her a cigarette with just a few flicks of her perfectly manicured fingers. Black nails weren’t really something you saw a lot of, especially in fucking Idaho, which is filled to the brim with Mormons and Seventh Day Adventists, not to mention Catholics since, surprisingly, there are a lot of hispanics in the state--okay, anyways, you’re getting off track. You stare at her nails, and she calls you out on it._

_“You like my nails, pretty boy?"_

_“I guess. Not really something I see a whole lotta here.” You flick your cigarette a bit, scattering ashes that get lost in the two inches of snow that’s already on the ground._

_You can hear her huff softly, and when you look back to her face, she’s smirking a little bit, but also looking… tired. Her eyes are about half closed as she checks you out with one cocked brow. “Where you from? You dress like some little church boy.”_

_“Utah.”_

_“Mormon? Mormon boys are always fun to fuck around with.”_

_“I’m flattered, I really am, but I’m gay.”_

_“No shit? Me too.”_

_You let yourself chuckle a little bit. You’ve never met a lesbian before, and you’re surprised that she’s one. You didn’t peg her for the type immediately._

_The conversation goes on, and she, somehow, manages to get you to spill your guts to her. You explain that you’re having an awful year, and you explain how you’re all depressed and how you kind of want to die, so she makes a proposition as she scribbles her phone number onto your hand. “Call here, and ask for Breezy if you ever want to try something to take the edge off a little bit. I get how you feel, and I_ promise  _that I know of a way to help.”_

_She seems nice, and you’re naive, so you just smile softly, and thank her for the concern before she pecks you on the cheek and walks away._

_You have an old rotary phone in your apartment. Okay, not old, but as someone who is telling this story from the year 2003, rotary phones seem pretty ancient to you. Point is, you only last a few more weeks before giving in and calling her. You’d scribbled the number down on the notepad kept near the phone,_ just in case,  _you said, and when the week of Christmas rolls around, you’re feeling especially shitty._

_The roads are too bad for you to road trip it home to Salt Lake City, and you can’t afford to fly there, if you could even do that, what with how shitty the weather is, so you just--you call her. A man answers the phone, so you ask for Breezy, and within a minute, she’s on the phone, saying, “Who is this?”_

_“Uh. Dallon.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Cigarette guy from the courtyard.”_

_“Oh,_ you!”  _You can practically hear the smile that you once would assume was sweet, but you’d later find out was sinister and sort of malicious._

_Breezy Douglas is… She’s one of those people who can make anyone fall in love with her, even you, although in a friend way, and she’s a destructive force, destined to bring down anyone who so much as greets her._

_“Yeah, me. You said to call if I ever… wanted help, I guess. I forgot what you said exactly, but I remember the gist of it.” You let yourself sink down to sit on the floor, back pressed against the wood paneling on your wall, the phone cord stretching almost to its limit just so you can speak._

_She talks to you for a little bit, before giving you her address, and giving you instructions on how to get there. She also explains that she’s having a… party that night, and that you should just drop by anyways, since parties are, apparently, always fun. And you believed her, for the most part. You’ve never really been to any parties, but all the ones you’d gone to had been pretty fun._

_You show up in clothes that you think make you look the hottest, and you kind of thank the lord that she’s the one who answers the door, even though she isn’t wearing a shirt, and even though the strap on her bra is falling off of her shoulder, almost revealing a_ boob.  _She also doesn’t have any pants on, but rather a pair of panties that, if you were straight, probably would’ve made you pop a hard on right then and there._

 _She looks like the definition of promiscuity, and she just_ smiles  _that smile as she almost gently grabs your hand, and tugs you into the house. All you can smell is cigarette and pot smoke, and you can see a few people in the living room smoking_ something  _that definitely wasn’t pot or a cigarette as she’s tugging your leather jacket off of your shoulders, hanging it up by the door, before leading you to a different room._

_This room is… It’s something. It actually doesn’t look like anything spectacular, but there’s a threesome going on in the bed, and you just watch, almost curiously, as she heads over to the dresser in the room, and as she pulls something out of the top drawer. She comes stalking back over to you, pipe in one hand, and a lighter in the other._

_You ask her what it is, and she mumbles out some explanation that you don’t really catch before she’s handing the pipe and the lighter to you, telling you to light up. You’re skeptical, but, hey--you’re at a point in your life to where you’re literally willing to_ anything  _just to quit feeling like shit._

_You blink with wide eyes after the first hit, saying, “Oh wow. Fuck.”_

_And she smirks. It goes on for a while, and she takes the pipe from you at some point, saying something about how you shouldn’t smoke too much right off the bat, before you find yourself being pushed onto your back on a bed that’s in, yet again, a different room. She’s kissing you, and you’re kissing back._

_You’re still gay, and she’s still a lesbian, but you’re kind of hard, and you know that she’s probably been horny since before you even got there, so sleeping with her didn’t seem to be too much of a stretch. Your t-shirt gets pulled off, and her hands are cold as they travel up and down your chest and stomach, until, eventually she’s unbuckling your belt, unzipping your pants, and sliding both your pants and your briefs down to about the middle of your thighs._

_She instructs you to scoot a little further up on the bed, gently, and you get to doing that while she’s rifling through a bag on the floor before returning with a lubricated condom. Surprisingly, she asks you if you’re alright with everything that’s happening, and you just say that, yeah, you are, and that you really don’t care about what you have to do to get off at this point, which draws a bit of a laugh out of her._

_You do ask her why she’s about to sleep with you even though she’s gay, and she just tells you that it’s for about the same reason as you’re sleeping with her._

_Sleeping with girls isn’t bad, and you’ve never hated it, but it’s never felt completely right. She has to basically coach you through the whole experience, gently grabbing your hands and placing them over her breasts, effectively cupping them, and you realize that you didn’t even notice that she’d taken the bra off, and you’re still a little out of it even when she’s rolling the condom onto you, and slowly,_ slowly,  _lowering herself onto your dick._

_You don’t bother trying to be quiet, and neither does she as the two of you move and work together in tandem, and you remember coming at some point, and you also remember burying your face between her thighs to get her off as well, since you didn’t think it was fair if you were the only one who got off, before you’re waking up with a splitting headache and a wave of dizziness washing over you._

_She’s tucked into your side, sleeping soundly, and she looks so pretty, and she kind of makes you wish that you were straight. You’ll never love her, and you know she’ll never love you, but that just--that didn’t stop the two of you from meeting up every few weeks to get tweaked and to fuck your brains out before waking up in the mornings feeling like shit._

_This goes on for a few years, and, finally, before you’re about to start your third year in college, you get kicked out of school, meaning you’d lost your scholarship. You didn’t care, though. It just meant you had more free time to spend having sex with both men and women while also getting high._

_You can’t really remember when you went from smoking heroin to injecting it into your arms, but it had happened, obviously._

_A while after you turned twenty one, Breezy dropped off of the face of the earth, and now that you think about it, you wouldn’t be surprised if she overdosed. You watch over the course of the next year as all of your friends start either leaving you, overdosing, or just disappearing in general, and you try a few times to quit using, but it never really sticks until you catch a cold._

_You just lay on your couch, feeling miserable, mostly because you’re crashing along with being sick, and you only think to call 911 after noticing that your fever was starting to get dangerous, and that you were feeling shittier than you should be from a simple fucking cold._

_The paramedic that you actually talk to in the ambulance asks you if you’d taken or used any drugs. You want to lie, and you think you should, but you fess up. You can see the look on his face, the judgmental one, but he’s also trying to do his job. He asks if you’d used any dirty needles, or if you’d slept with anyone without protection._

_You answer that, yeah, you’d probably used a dirty needle or two or twenty, but that you’d never had unprotected sex. The HIV/AIDS epidemic had you freaked out, even in 1993, so you were religious about keeping condoms with you at all times, no matter how ridiculous it seemed._

_You just didn’t realize that unprotected sex wasn’t the only way to contract the disease, until you get blood drawn, and until a doctor is walking into your room, a grim look on his face. He tells you that, aside from heroin and_ meth,  _which surprised you, since you don’t ever remember using meth, but also didn’t surprise you, given the place you were at--anyways, as usual, you’re getting off track._

_The doctor informed you that you’d tested positive for HIV._

_You’re not sure what to say. You’re in a hospital room at a St. Lukes in Boise that you’d never even heard of before, you don’t know anyone in fucking Idaho, and you haven’t spoken to your parents since you were nineteen. There’s nothing you can really do._

_It only takes a few days for you to crack and dial the number you remember being your parent’s house number into another rotary phone. Your mother answers, sounding as happy and as chipper as ever, but the tone drops immediately as soon as you say, “Uh. Hey, mom.”_

_She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and it scares you. You’re about to just hang up until she finally says, “Dallon?”_

_And, alright, you sigh, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t start tearing up. “I fucked up and I need help.”_

_She doesn’t sound mad, and she doesn’t yell at you, and you’re glad that she’s literally the best mom ever. She just says, “Where are you and what do you need?”_

_You give her the address of the hospital, and you tell her that this is something you should probably explain in person. You’re not sure on what’s about to happen, and you spend a few days going between sleeping and just crying, while watching Three’s Company on the old TV that’s in the room you’re sharing with someone else._

_The other guy in the room just sleeps a lot, and doesn’t really say much, other than a dry comment here and there that usually draws a snort and maybe a small laugh out of you._

_Your mom looks different when you see her. Her hair is longer, and it’s styled differently. She looks skinnier than she had the last time you’d seen her before moving to go to college, and she just… looks good. On one hand you were expecting her to be stuck on you after your disappearance, but on the other hand you’re not too surprised that she just… moved on. Life doesn’t stop._

_As soon as she sees you, though, her purse is hitting the floor, and she’s got some look on her face as she rushes over to you. Okay, she doesn’t rush over, and her purse doesn’t hit the floor, but she does set the purse down in the chair next to the bed you’re in, and she leans over you, looking you in the face, asking, “What happened?”_

_You don’t go into too much detail, but you inform her that her darling trophy son is a heroin addict, and that he’s HIV positive, not to mention gay. She doesn’t yell, and she doesn’t give you some religious rant, but she asks if you’re alright._

_You laugh bitterly, saying, “God, no. I have a cold, and I seriously don’t know whether or not I’m going to live. My immune system is shot to hell, and I’m starting to have withdrawals since it’s been a few days since I’ve used anything.”_

_She looks kind of disappointed, but mostly just concerned. You’re in the hospital for another month until your cold goes away, and until you’re prescribed a bunch of medications. You go back to Utah with your mother, and you stay in your old room for a day or two before her and your father essentially force you to go to fucking rehab._

_At the time, you hated them for it, because you thought you had everything figured out, and you thought you’d just manage on your own, without any help, but that plan wasn’t working out for you. It never did in the past._

_Rehab isn’t as bad as people like to make it out to be. Mostly you just sit around, watching TV, eating a little bit here and there, and fraternizing with some of the other people in the clinic, along with going to NA every other day._

_You also spend a lot of time contemplating killing yourself, aside from just being_ scared  _all of the time. You spend almost ten years feeling alone and scared, knowing you really don’t have anyone aside from your parents, up until you meet Brendon and Tyler in that little record store, and until you get introduced to all of their friends, thankfully being accepted almost immediately, aside from Josh just being an asshole in general._

_You’re in rehab for about a year before you finally go home, only to find out that your father got a good job offer in Ohio, meaning that you either had to find a way to survive on your own in Utah, or you had to move with them._

_You went for the latter choice, obviously. You enrolled in Ohio State, found another NA group to go to, and you finished your economics degree._

_Now, one might ask why you’re teaching music history. Well, Josh asks, since he’s the only one who knows you have an economics degree, but you just explain that you weren’t too keen on just going to New York with only twenty bucks to your name, and that the only job you could get was a job as a music history professor. The only requirement for the job was a teaching license, so it was easy enough._

_Also, you love music, so that just made it all the more easier._

_Josh asks you if you have any regrets, but more awkwardly than you’re making him out to be, and you just tell him that, honestly, you don’t have any regrets. Sure, it fucking sucks having this_ thing  _inside of you, knowing you could die at any moment, but you like where your life is at. You like the friends you have, you like your job, you love your boyfriend more than anything, and... yeah. Life is good._

_\---_

Tyler’s laying on his back, on the floor in the living room, reading a book that he’s supposed to read for his English class, on his  _birthday._ It’s a boring book, and he fucking hates it, and he wishes he wasn’t stuck reading it on his birthday, but he needs to read at  _least_ five chapters, and so far, he’s only gone through two and a half. Ish.

It’s a recurring theme in his life, but Josh walks into the apartment, and shouts, “Where are you?”

“Living room,” He drawls out, boredly, in a slightly raised voice.

Josh tells him to stay put, and Tyler’s half tempted to disobey, and to follow the man into the bedroom, but he figures Josh has good reasoning, and he’s also a little tired, so he just opts to roll over onto his stomach to continue reading the novel. A few minutes go by until Josh is telling Tyler to close his eyes, and to not peek under any circumstances.

Tyler prays Josh isn’t about to do something that’s going to end up being bad for him as he sits up, eyes closed, hands kind of clasped as well as they can be, given he still has a cast on his arm. He hears footsteps, then gets a whiff of Josh’s cologne before hearing the man sit down in front of him with a grunt and some grumbled out comment about his back, along with the crinkling of paper, which gets Tyler a little excited. Paper means  _presents._

One of Josh’s calloused hands gently grabs his left wrist, and pulls it towards him just a little bit, before placing something into Tyler’s hand. Tyler doesn’t know what it is, other than the fact that it’s covered in paper and that it’s kind of round but also a little bumpy. “Please tell me this isn’t a dildo or a vibrator.”

“Just open your eyes, smart ass,” Comes Josh’s soft command.

Tyler opens his eyes, and gasps almost silently. In his hand is literally the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he’s ever seen. He sees gardenias, white roses, and he’s pretty sure he sees lilacs and lavender as well, which confuses him, and causes him to say, “These aren’t even in season. How…?”

“I know a few people. I remember you saying something about white gardenias, and I talked to your friend, Ashley, and she said you like roses and lilac too. The lavender was added just because I think it smells nice.”

Tyler looks up to the man, and smiles softly when he notices that he isn’t making eye contact, and that he’s playing with his hair, which is freshly dyed a dark blue kind of color. Josh is blushing a little bit too, so Tyler leans forward, and Josh gets the hint to lean forward as well to close the distance between their lips.

Josh lets Tyler crawl into his lap after they kiss, and he can’t help his own soft smile when Tyler’s whispering, “I love you so much,” into the side of his neck.

They kiss for a while longer, but Josh breaks it up, saying, “As much as I love kissing you, we kind of need to get ready.”

Tyler leans back, eyebrows raised, mouth trying not to break out into a grin. “Really? What for?”

“You know that one Italian restaurant in that really nice part of Columbus? Like, the really fancy one that all the businessmen and their wives and all those stockbrokers go to?” Josh is running his hands up and down Tyler’s thighs, with no underlying intention, other than the fact that he never really knows what to do with his hands.

“I know the place. I went there a few times when I was real little. I got wealthy parents, remember?” Tyler tilts his head a little bit, and bites his lip, figuring that he knows where Josh is about to go with this.

Josh nods, almost knowingly. “I’m aware. Anyways, once upon a time, I said that I wanted to start going on more dates with you, and spending more time with you. Although we’re practically attached at the hip, I think I’ve only gone on one other date with you,  _so,_ a few weeks ago, I called and made reservations for tonight.”

Tyler’s jaw drops a little bit, and if he didn’t have a cast on his right wrist, he would’ve clapped and smacked a kiss onto Josh’s lips. Instead, though, he  _just_ kisses Josh on the lips, and lets out a quick shout of, “Fuck yeah!”

Josh grins as he kisses back for a few seconds, before shooing Tyler off of his lap, and hauling himself up and off of the floor, then helping Tyler stand up, since he’d been having trouble getting himself upright lately due to the cast. “By the way, I did happen to get you a few more presents, but you can open them after we get home,” Josh says, slyly, as he follows Tyler to the bedroom.

Josh honestly doesn’t  _need_ to get changed, but he’s been in the same outfit all day, so a different suit would probably do him some good. Tyler only has two suits, and Josh makes a mental note to offer to buy him a new one for Christmas or just as a random gift at some point. Either way, the twenty--wait, the twenty  _one_ year old still looks handsome as hell once he’s dressed up, and after he’s had Josh tie his tie for him.

“How do I look?” Tyler asks as he strikes a somewhat obnoxious and corny pose that you’d see someone doing if they were trying to do a poor job of mimicking a model.

“Even if it wasn’t your birthday, you’d  _so_ be getting laid tonight.  _That’s_ how good you look.”

Tyler drops the pose and giggles with a wide grin as he walks over to where his jeans are resting messily on the floor near the hamper. He pulls his wallet and his set of keys from one of the pockets. He figures he probably doesn’t need his keys, but there’s been a few incidents with Josh forgetting his, so it’s a little handy to have a spare car and house key.

Josh rifles through his side of the closet for a few moments before pulling out one of his wool coats. “Wool coat. Formal and classy, while also being warm. You can, uh, borrow this one.”

Tyler mentally smirks at his somewhat sheepish partner before taking the coat with a small, “Thank you, J,” and a kiss on the cheek. Tyler slips into the bathroom for a bit to brush and style his hair as much as possible, which isn’t really a whole lot, since he hates using product, and since his hair is long enough to touch his eyebrows, meaning brushing it can only do so much.

\---

Tyler’s scanning the menu in the restaurant, trying to see if he knows what any of it means when a waitress stops at their table to offer them a few different drinks. Wine is one of them, and Josh gives Tyler a bit of a look before saying, “Wine would be lovely.”

Tyler scoffs. “Nice try, asshole. Water. For both of us.” Tyler watches her walk away after she'd made an amused face, before he turns his attention back to Josh. “Have you been drinking at all?”

“Not at all. I was just kidding."

Tyler squints at Josh, and clicks his tongue, before crossing his legs under the table as he goes back to looking at his menu, lips pursed, tongue in his cheek, and eyebrows raised just a little bit. That only lasts for a few more minutes, though, before he’s saying, “I can’t understand any of this. It’s all in Italian.”

Josh leans over to look at Tyler’s menu, then points at something. “Cheese ravioli, basically; you should like that. That one is chicken alfredo, then that’s spaghetti, and…” He looks at a few more dishes.  _“That_ one is just, like… It’s bowtie pasta in this buttery kind of sauce. It’s a little heavy but it’s not bad.” Josh points at a few other things, and Tyler just settles on the ravioli, since most everything else he would’ve been interested in was a mouthful for him to say.

Josh works his charm, and Tyler knows it. He indulges him, though, and flirts back, seemingly innocently, licking his fork unnecessarily once in awhile, not to mention the way he licks and bites at his lips just a bit, nodding whenever Josh is speaking,  _knowing_ that he’s going to get worked up at some point.

Tyler explains a silly situation to Josh, basking in the adoring look he gets from him, even as he’s explaining that he told someone that he got into a fight with a professional wrestler, and busted his arm from how hard he’d punched the guy. Josh just laughs softly along with Tyler's little tale, dropping dry comments here and there.

Tyler manages to talk Josh into dessert, mostly since it's just something they never really get whenever they're eating somewhere. Josh is a little picky with eating anything considered dessert, which confuses Tyler just a bit, since the man can and  _will_ eat an entire box of macaroni and cheese by him damn self. Either way, though, it's an excuse to eat vanilla ice cream and coconut cake with white frosting in front of him.

The first thing Tyler does with the slice of cake is swipe a bit of the frosting off and onto his finger so he can lick it and suck on his finger just a tiny bit, and, yeah, okay, Josh knows exactly what the younger man is doing, especially since he's doing just about the same thing, except he's licking whipped cream off of a strawberry slice.

“Josh, this isn't going to work if we're both trying to work each other up.”

“You've been pulling this shit all evening, Tyler. Why can't I get a turn?”

“Because I'm the twink here. I'm supposed to be the tease. You're supposed to just… Take the bait.”

Josh rolls his eyes but laughs softly nonetheless.

\---

“Okay,” Tyler starts, voice raised, as he steps back into the apartment, “that  _had_ to have been one of the most romantic evenings I have ever had. That isn't saying much since I've only been on two other dates, but  _still.”_

Tyler throws his arms over Josh's shoulders, and kisses the man deeply, but Josh cuts him off the second he feels a hand on his ass. “You still got presents from me to open, sweetheart.”

“You haven't called me that in a good while, y’know.”

Josh just nods with a somewhat nervous smile as he tells Tyler to go sit in the living room while he goes and retrieves the three presents he'd gotten for him.

Tyler is over the moon about the evening he'd been sharing with his partner, and he declares it his best birthday ever before they even get to the presents or the sex. He grins a grin wide enough to break his face when he sees the three sorta sloppily wrapped presents that Josh is trying not to drop as he walks around the couch.

“Three presents? You really must want one helluva blow job…” Tyler takes the present that's kind of flat and soft, ripping it open only after Josh is seated, cross-legged on the floor in front of him. “Jesus, where'd you get this?” He mutters as he examines the red and white jersey that he's holding up.

“It was in that one box that's in the back of my closet. You're always stealing my clothes, and you wear my varsity jacket almost always,  _so,_ I figured you'd probably like the jersey. It has tons of sentimental value to me, so, y’know.” Josh shrugs, and flushes red a little bit when Tyler's kissing him gently on the lips to thank him.

“Is this a football jersey? Sleeves are, uh, a little long there, buddy.”

 _“Oh,_ uh, I was in some, like, hockey thing for a few years when I first started college. That's why. It's a hockey jersey.”

“Football  _and_ hockey. You're a mysterious man, Joshua Dun. Any other sports I don't know about?”

Tyler's joking about the last sentence as he goes for the next present, not expecting an answer, but he gets one anyways. “Basketball and baseball too. Mostly when I was  _really_ little.”

“Stop before I get turned on,” Tyler mumbles as he gets to unwrapping the next present, slightly more carefully than the last one. “So, uh… Logic behind this one?” And now the twenty one year old is holding up a stuffed cat that is, admittedly, pretty adorable.

Josh hides his face in his hands for a few seconds before explaining. “I noticed a few, like, stuffed animals popping up in my room, on my dresser and in a few other places, and  _I'm_ not the type to buy stuffed animals or to even have them in the first place, so, uh, y’know… Also, I know you like cats. I'm really bad at presents, alright?”

Tyler just chuckles a little bit before kissing Josh again, this time a little slower, definitely sweeter. “I think it's very sweet, Josh. I'll find a place for it.”

“Why do you even own stuffed animals? Aren't you a little… old? I mean--I think it's endearing, but I'm curious.”

“You don't have to backtrack, dude. A few are leftovers from when I was a kid, and the others are just… I have a tendency to buy things on impulse if I have the money and if I think they're cute. It's kinda dumb, but, hey, we all got something.”

“You collect stuffed animals, and I do drugs.”

Tyler snorts and gets Josh in the shin with a sock covered foot. The third present is a  _very_ expensive and high-end pair of over the ear headphones. Tyler can't see a price tag anywhere on it, but they  _look_ expensive, so he asks, “Why, and  _how much?”_

“You were complaining about the ones you have being a little…  _tinny_ and harsh. Talked to Brendon and a few other people, and they all suggested this brand. A few suggested this specific one, so, y’know. Also, very much. Like, two hundred and fifty dollars much.”

“Hm, maybe you  _are_ my sugar daddy,” Tyler comments as he reads the back of the box the headphones are in.

Josh rolls his eyes. “You pay for most of your things, besides tuition and medical stuff. I just like  _spoiling_ you sometimes. You always get this dopey look on your face whenever you get any gifts from anyone, and it’s kind of… it’s cute. And I love you.”

Tyler reaches down and messes up Josh’s cobalt blue hair with his left hand. “You’re such a  _softy_. Oh my god. I can't believe you ever even tried to pretend you weren't a huge teddy bear.”

Josh bats Tyler’s hand away and lets out a two second long wheezing little laugh. “You’re just  _asking_ for me to start being a dick. My pride has no bounds.”

“Maybe I’m just angling for you to fuck me, like,  _really_ hard?”

Josh turns around and scoots over to where he’s sort of in between Tyler’s legs, head tilted back, looking up at him. “I was going to ask who gets to top, but I guess that's settled.”

“Josh,  _please._ It’s  _my_ birthday. I want all of the attention.” Tyler bends down, and kisses Josh on the forehead. He goes back to reading the back of the box the headphones are in, before getting an idea. He shoos Josh away, and stands up. “Sit right there,” He instructs, pointing at the middle cushion on the couch.

Josh obeys, and just gives the younger man a curious look, asking, “Can I ask why?”

“Not yet.” The headphones get set down on the coffee table, which gets pushed forward a few feet before Tyler steps over to the stereo that’s in one of the corners of the room. There’s a CD and a cassette holder nearby, and Tyler scans the racks carefully, before pulling out a specific album, reading the back of it until he finds a track that he  _really_ likes.

Josh questions him when he places the CD in the stereo, and doesn’t play anything.

“Just shut up and don’t question me yet. You’ll find out within the next ten minutes, I promise.”

Tyler walks past the coffee table, and grabs the hockey jersey on his way out of the living room, and to the bedroom. He makes quick work of stripping out of his suit. He messily tosses the clothes over to the general direction of the hamper before striding across the room, jersey still in hand, so he can rifle through the drawer he keeps his underwear in.

He finds the tightest and almost  _cutest_ pair of briefs he owns, black ones with  _baby boy_ printed on the back in red text. Tyler had gotten the pair, mostly as a joke, and to wear whenever he didn’t have any other pairs of underwear to, y’know, wear, but he  _knows_ they make his ass look good, and he  _knows_ that Josh totally eats that shit up whenever he  _does_ wear them. Tyler’s basically an expert in turning one Joshua Dun on.

Tyler tugs the briefs on, and looks at himself in the full length mirror on the other side of the room, smirking smugly when he sees that he does, in fact, look  _amazing._ (Amazingly irresistible, at least.) He looks away as he holds the jersey up in front of him, then thanks the lord that it’s definitely way too big for him. He looks cute in shirts and sweaters that are a little too big for him, and he knows it. He  _knows_ it.

He slips the jersey on, and looks at himself in the mirror again, over his shoulder. He hikes the jersey up over his ass a little bit, and thinks,  _“Yeah, I’d fuck the hell out of me,”_ to himself. Before leaving the room again, he strides over to the little bedside table that they keep condoms and lube in, plus a toy or two, and he rifles through it.

Of course, Josh and Tyler both usually go for the specific kind of Durex condoms that fit either of them properly, but lube--oh, man, do they have a fuck ton of  _lube._ Tyler looks between two of his favorites, before deciding on the bottle of warming  _silicone_ lube.

The boy places the two items on the bed before stalking back out to the living room. The second Josh sees him, the man’s eyes are widening and he makes the  _slightest_ high pitched noise. Tyler winks and walks over to the stereo again, and skips to a specific track, pressing play, and adjusting the volume to where it's basically just adding to the ambience of the room. And, finally, before doing anything else, he fiddles with the mood lighting, until the lights are dimmed to a not-so-obnoxious level.

“What are you up to, Tyler?” Josh asks, kind of curiously,  even though he can guess where this is going.

“Haven't given you a lapdance in a while,” he states simply.

“A lapdance to Blue Oyster Cult?”

“Something about Veteran of the Psychic Wars gets me in a lapdance mood.” And now the younger man is shrugging as he's finally standing in front of where Josh is sitting on the couch.

Josh knows the drill when it comes to Tyler and lapdances--no touching or kissing unless Tyler initiates it. It's a hard task, no pun intended, not to touch him or to not try and take control of the situation, but he usually manages.

Tyler takes his time as he straddles Josh's thighs, and it takes everything in Josh not to lift the  jersey up far enough to see what's underneath. The man sighs softly, but not in a displeased sort of way, when there's hips almost gracefully and smoothly rolling and lifting up a bit here and there,  _teasing_ him already. He's somewhat satisfied when Tyler's taking his hands in his (as best as he can with the cast, at least) and placing them on his thighs, knowing that Josh would feel awkward if his hands weren’t  _somewhere._

It goes on like that for a while, hips swaying and moving, almost in time with the music, lips leaving somewhat messy open mouthed kisses on Josh's neck, plus a few hickeys, and large hands wandering up thighs and under a jersey the tiniest bit, but only after a permissive nod from Tyler. Either of them are breathing a  _little_ raggedly, trying not to come off as desperate, until Tyler’s whispering, “I’m done,” into one of Josh’s ears.

Josh smirks a bit, and he's quick to put hands under Tyler's thighs as he hoists the younger man up, carrying him to the bedroom. Tyler giggles prettily, face resting almost politely against Josh’s shoulder.

Tyler's expecting to be thrown onto the bed, roughly and unceremoniously, especially after Josh sees the condom and the lube that’s already set out, but, alas, he finds himself being  _gently_ and  _politely_ placed onto the bed. Tyler sits up and as Josh starts to get undressed, out of his own formal attire, he pulls the jersey up and over his head.

When Josh looks back over to the bed, he sees  _someone_ lying on his stomach, hips positioned subtly enough for his ass to be poking up just a  _bit._ Josh straddles the back of Tyler’s thighs, and grips the boy's ass gently, saying, “So, you’re wearing  _this_ pair of underwear.”

Tyler looks over his shoulder, eyes half lidded as he nods, before a tiny smirk appears on his face. Before Josh gets started doing anything, he’s sure to ask Tyler what he  _wants_ out of the situation, and what things are and aren’t okay. It’s a discussion they have whenever they’re doing anything  _rough,_ or  _kinky,_ or basically anything that falls outside of plain old missionary style vanilla sex.

Once they’ve established what's about to happen, Josh pulls down the briefs Tyler's wearing to about the middle of his thighs, before he’s reaching for the bottle of lube, immediately squeezing a generous amount onto the tips of his right ring and middle finger.

He’s slow at first, gently working his squirming and whining partner open with two and eventually three of his fingers before he starts picking up the pace his fingers are thrusting in and out of the younger man until he’s close to yelling, and right as he’s on the edge of  _release._ Once  _that_ happens, he’s pulling his fingers out, and getting off of Tyler’s thighs so he can make quick work of pulling his briefs the rest of the way off.

Tyler bites his lip and tries not to smile a little bit when his hips are being pulled up, and while Josh has a hand on his head for a few moments, pressing it into the pillow, instructing him not to move. Just before Josh is about to start slowly working his cock into Tyler, he asks him if he’s still alright with everything that’s happening. Once he gets a verbal confirmation, he slowly bottoms out.

He quickly starts to build up a relentless and  _fast_ rhythm, whispering filthy things to Tyler, and landing sharp  _smacks_ to the younger man's ass once in awhile.

Tyler’s moaning, surprisingly softly, but still a little loud, as he mumbles out his own sew of filthy things and little  _pet names_ for his partner. Josh feels as if there's lightning shooting through his veins as he fucks his partner into the mattress, tirelessly and consistently.

\---

Tyler sighs contentedly at the feeling of Josh’s large, seemingly rough hands, gently rubbing his shoulders and upper back while they share a bath together. The twenty one year old lets out a quiet yawn, before sleepily asking, “How do you go from being all, like… rough and shit, to literally carrying me to the bathroom so we can take a bath?”

“Magic, sweetheart.  _Magic.”_ Tyler can pretty much hear the small closed mouth smile on Josh’s face, and he can  _feel_ it when there’s a kiss being pressed to the back of his neck.

Tyler knows the answer, but he likes getting his ego fed, so he still finds himself asking, “Are you like this with any of your one night stands?”

“God, no.” Josh punctuates his answer by squeezing Tyler’s shoulders a bit. “Unfortunately, I love you, and I have this weird tendency to be all cute and affectionate when I love someone.”

“Disgustingly cute, apparently,” Tyler drawls as he leans back, pressed against Josh’s chest.

“Speaking of  _disgustingly cute,_ how do you  _always_ manage to be so  _adorable,_ yet not make it disgusting?”

Tyler can’t help the grin that comes across his face from the soft tone that Josh had used with him. “No idea, babe. Glad to know that you think I’m adorable, though. Very glad.”

“I’d tell you every chance I got, but I have a cuteness cap.”

“How long do you think we got until you hit that cap?”

“Eh, maybe a few hours, at this rate. Usually I’d be done,  _but,_ it’s your  _birthday.”_

“So is this the guaranteed ‘Josh is nice to Tyler’ day?”

“I’m nice to you everyday, dick,” Josh counters with a huff as he nips at Tyler’s shoulder.

“Not quite, man. Though, you’ve been on a good year and a half streak.”

“I’m trying.”

“And you’re doing a  _wonderful_ job,” Comes Tyler’s praise as he turns a bit to kiss his partner on the lips. His voice almost a whisper this time, he says, “I know this day is supposed to be about me, but you do know I’m proud of you, right?”

Josh nods and picks Tyler on the lips. “You’ve told me a time or two or twenty, possibly more.”

“Definitely more. Don’t undersell me, dick.”

Josh gasps in mock-offense. “I would  _never._ You’re  _the best,_ Tyler. You’re very sweet and kind.”

Tyler smirks. “Go on.” And now he’s resuming his previous position of just lounging between Josh’s legs, back pressed against the older man’s chest.

“You’re sweet, kind, talented, smart, beautiful, brilliant, and the list goes on, Tyler.”

“I have cavities, J.”

Josh snorts.

\---

Josh stays up with Tyler for a while, watching a movie and a few reruns of  _Six Feet Under_ until the twenty one year old is to the point of falling asleep sitting up, which is when Josh forces him to go to bed. (Tyler’s a stubborn guy; what can you do?)

They sleep amazingly until three or four, Josh holding Tyler against his chest, and the younger just sleeping in a way that seems almost content until Josh finds himself being jostled awake by Tyler wriggling around in his sleep a little bit, as well as whimpering almost silently.

Which is, obviously, something he doesn’t usually do. It throws Josh into a groggy state of alarm that causes him to detach himself from his partner, and that causes him to gently nudge the younger man awake.

Tyler, of course, wakes with a start, and Josh finds himself cradling his own head after getting hit with Tyler’s casted arm. “Shit,  _fuck,”_ he curses, sharply, out of shock.

Tyler curses as well, and whines slightly, asking, “What the fuck…?”

“Watch your  _arm,”_ Josh grumbles with a brief whine of his own.

Tyler sighs, and gives himself a moment or two to regain a little bit of consciousness before he bats Josh’s hands away from his head so he can place his own surprisingly soothing hand over where his cast had made contact. “‘m sorry, J,” Tyler just about whimpers out as a few hot tears let loose from his pretty hazel eyes.

Josh shushes him. “You were asleep, sweetheart. Not like you just decided to hit me upside the head for no reason.”

“Was havin’ a nightmare. Bout Mom, prom, and the accident.”

“All at the same time?” Josh mumbles back as he scoots closer again, taking Tyler’s hand from his own head and holding it against his chest.

“Post traumatic stress. Tried hitting you out of reflex. Defense mechanism,” He tries explaining, a few more tears spilling from his eyes, as he lets Josh awkwardly embrace him. (Their position didn’t really allow for embracing, but that doesn’t mean Josh didn’t try.)

Josh frowns at the way Tyler’s trembling an almost ridiculous amount. He doesn’t want the younger man to be scared, especially since he feels a not actually that weird and  _actually_ really understandable need to be overly protective of the twenty one year old. Tyler’s hyperventilating, and Josh can feel the kind of gross, hot, sticky feeling of tears on his chest while he tries hushing the younger, gently patting his back.

Tyler’s babbling quietly, explaining what’d been going on in his nightmare, and Josh listens as best as he can. “Things--things are getting  _bad_ again, and  _I don’t want it. I don’t want it, I don’t want it, I don’t want it, I don’t want it,”_ and so on; Tyler repeats the phrase over and over until Josh manages to gently cut him off.

“Sweetheart, you need to breathe. Don’t focus on that stuff right now.” Josh tries not to fall asleep as he starts to rub Tyler’s back. It’s been almost two years since Tyler’s woken up from a nightmare, then had a  _panic attack,_ so, of course, the thirty two year old is caught a little off guard as he tries to calm his panicking partner down. “Just breathe, Ty.”

Tyler babbles on a bit more, before saying something that Josh can respond to with more than, “You’re gonna be alright, Tyler; just  _breathe.”_

“Fuck--god--you’ve al-al-already g-g-got s’much sh-shit on y-your pl-pl-pla-plate with--without me fr-freaking ou-out,” Tyler all but sobs into Josh’s chest.

“I’m not the only one in this relationship, Tyler. You’re allowed to depend on me for shit like this. You aren’t a burden in the slightest.” Josh brushes Tyler’s hair out of his face with his hand, and although he can’t really see the younger man, he’s still looking meaningfully in the general direction of where he thinks Tyler’s eyes are.

“I wish--I wish I could just--just--just  _get my shit together._ This is so  _dumb._ I fucking  _hate_ having nightmares. I’m--I’m too  _old_ for this.”

“What does that make me then?” Josh starts, sort of playfully, but also really sleepily. “I’m twelve and a half years older than you but I still have nightmares sometimes, and we all know I cry at everything. Like, if  _you’re_ too old for it, then what about me…?” Josh nudges Tyler a bit, and half-grins when he feels the younger smile slightly.

“You’re so old that it’s like… reversed. You get younger every time you have a panic attack.”

Josh  _snorts._ “I fucking wish. If that was the deal, I’d be fifteen right now, I swear.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to tell you that you’re seventy five,” Tyler mumbles as he awkwardly wipes his eyes off against Josh’s chest, causing Josh to barely refrain from calling the twenty one year old gross.

“Just further proves that you have a thing for old men.”

“So you’re admitting that you’re old…?”

“Don’t start putting words into my mouth,” Josh grumbles. “Do you want water or something?”

Tyler shakes his head, mumbling, “I’d like to go back to sleep, honestly.” He’s still sniffling and crying just a little bit, and Josh is still rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head once in awhile. “Anyways, who needs water when they have their  _big bad boyfriend_ to hug ‘em?”

“‘M’not your boyfriend,” Josh sing-songs half heartedly.

“I know, but big bad partner sounded kind of stupid. Made me sound like I was trying to be in some western or something. Also, I mean, calling me your small, cute, and sensitive  _partner_ sounds dumb.”

Josh, who is now starting to doze off again, mumbles, “More like my small, cute, and sensitive  _dick.”_

Through small snorts and barely muffled giggles, Tyler manages, “I mean, it’s cute and sensitive, but it’s not  _small.”_

Which earns him a pinch in the ass. “Shut up or I’m withholding for a month.”

Tyler scoffs, yawns, and kisses Josh’s chest. “You’d never. My ass owns you.”

“Mhm. Let’s just… let’s sleep.”

Tyler nods, and after they lay there for five or so minutes, Tyler’s whispering, “Thanks.”

He’s expecting a, “Don’t worry about it,” or, “It’s fine,” but he gets an, “I love you, Ty,” instead, which makes him smile almost wider than he ever has.

\---

Josh makes Tyler breakfast the next morning, mostly as a way to try and make him feel better, but, unfortunately, he ends up burning the meal, and setting the fire alarms off, meaning Tyler gets woken up by shrill ringing instead of Josh carrying a neat tray of toast, scrambled eggs, and orange juice.

Tyler whines when he catches a whiff of burnt food after jerking awake from the fire alarm going off. He rolls out of bed and stumbles into the hall, seeing Josh waving around a broom towards the fire alarm in the kitchen, giving Tyler an apologetic look when the twenty one year old manages to make eye contact with his broom waving partner.

“What… are you even…?” Tyler mumbles once the alarm is off. He scrubs at his eyes, and squints at the pan of burnt food sitting on the stove. He steps over and sets it on a potholder on the counter, as to not burn it more.

“Wanted to make you  _fucking_ breakfast,” Josh says sharply under his breath as he basically throws the broom back into the broom closet, scrubbing a hand down his face.

He starts ranting, and raising his voice, obviously frustrated, and Tyler makes a loud, “Sh,” sound as he glares at Josh. “Quiet. My head hurts.”

“What, are you hungover?”

“I just have a tension headache,” He mumbles as he turns around to grab the bottle of Advil, pouring four out of the bottle and into his hand. “Probably from crying last night.”

After Tyler pops the over the counter pain medications, he motions Josh over for a hug. It’s a pretty shit hug on Tyler’s end, but the twenty one year old is tired, and he likes the way Josh’s bare chest feels against his slightly stubbly cheek. Josh comments on his minimal amount of facial hair, of course. “You’re tickling my chest, Tyler.”

“I’m too old to be shaving,” He mumbles as he practically melts in Josh’s arms.

“Too old?”

“Young, whatever. ‘M sleepy.”

“Wanna shower and walk to the diner?”

“Too cold to walk.”

“Even if I give you one of my coats?”

“Hm… It’s tempting.”

Josh rolls his eyes and huffs quietly.

\---

The diner is boring as ever. Pete’s dozing off behind the counter after Josh and Tyler have their meals, mostly since there’s no one in the place anyways, and since he’d apparently been there for eighteen hours anyways. Tyler always wonders why he busts his ass so much, since he can support himself just fine, but he never pries or bothers to ask, despite the man being somewhat of a father figure in his life.

Meanwhile, on Josh’s end of life, he tries enjoying Tyler’s company while they eat, while trying to  _also_ ignore the nervousness building in the pit of the stomach since, business wise, this is sort of a big day for him. He’s meeting with the politician today, to accept his offer, since, unfortunately, he’s still in need of cash. He’s already starting to turn a profit, like, a fairly decent one, but he needs this boost. He really does.

Tyler doesn’t know about the meeting yet, and, honestly, the only person who actually does, aside from Josh, is Debby, but only because she’s the one who set it up in the first place.

After Josh has finished his breakfast, and after he’s dropped Tyler off at his school he navigates his way through Columbus to where his office building is at. Debby follows him from basically the door to where his actual  _office_ is at, blabbing his ear off, not noticing that Josh is tuning her out, only mumbling the occasional obligatory, “Yeah,” and, “Mhm,” once in awhile until he’s setting his coffee down on his desk as well as his brief case.

“Have you even been listening?” She asks, sounding kind of annoyed.

Josh sighs and looks her in the eyes. “Not really, honestly.”

She rolls her eyes. “I was talking about my  _wife_ , and the to-be mother of your second child.”

Josh tiredly asks, “Is she alright?” as he sits down, not really having it in him to act genuinely concerned. Of course, he is concerned, he really is, but he’s anxious, tired, depressed, and not in the best mood in the first place.

“She fine.  _Anyways,_ as I was saying--she’s hardly four weeks along and she’s already wanting to sign up for lamaze.”

“You started going around six months, right?” Josh quirks a brow slightly as he starts to unpack his briefcase.

“Yeah. It’s like--babe, it’s a little too soon to be going to lamaze, y’know? It’s real cute that she’s so excited, though.” Debby sighs wistfully, and grins at nothing in particular. “Jen’s willing to let you be more involved this time, by the way.”

Josh makes a slight face. “She about killed me every time I so much as talked to  _you_ last time. Why’s she suddenly all happy this time?”

“She’s not,  _but,_ it’s different this time. You’re not, all, y’know… On drugs,  _I’m_ not the one who’s pregnant, and she just thinks it’d do you some good to be involved, alright?” Debby gives Josh a sympathetic look before her demeanor changes into her professional one. “Your meeting with…” She pulls a paper out from a manilla folder that’d been in her hands, reading the name, “Jonathan Bell,” before finishing her sentence, “is in a little under an hour. Also, probably good to note, but he’s running for  _governor_ now. Not mayor.”

Josh frowns. “How the hell does someone go from  _mayor_ to  _governor?”_

“Hell if I know, Josh. All I know is that money wise you’re probably going to make a killing if you can nail him to the wall.”

\---

Josh sighs, mentally, after seeing that not only does he have a meeting with Jonathan Bell, but he has a meeting with  _him_ and his committee. He’s about halfway through saying something rather…  _important_ when one of Bell’s people interrupts him, asking, “What do you even know about running a political campaign?”

Josh catches the curious look Debby gives him before he replies with, “Not a goddamn thing, if I’m honest.”

The possibly future governor doesn’t look impressed as he asks, “What am I even doing here, then?”

“It’s for you to decide. I do know, though, what  _sells._ I’ve seen some of your campaigning so far, and it’s all piss poor. It’s stale. There’s nothing new or interesting about a family man who wants to keep the streets of Columbus safe for children and families. Everyone’s heard it before.”

“That’s what my supporters respond to the most, though.”

Josh rolls his eyes and puts a hand on his hip as he points towards something that’s being projected onto the wall in the room. “You already  _have_ their votes, though. The next eleven months are going to be filled with campaigning for you, and you aren’t going to get anywhere if you focus on the people whose votes you already have. What about everyone else? Minorities? Youth? Queers? From an outside point of view, your campaign, currently, wouldn’t convince me to go vote for you when the day came, and you need as many votes as you can get.”

They go on, and Josh bounces a few more ideas off of him before he’s leaving, thanking Josh for his time.

Josh stands in the same place for a few minutes, hand on his hip again, and his other against his forehead after Bell leaves. He sighs, loudly, and jumps a little bit when Debby is standing next to him, rubbing his arm, and offering him a small smile.

“You alright, Josh?”

“I’m good. Just tired. Didn’t sleep a whole lot last night, and it’s hard trying to act like I don’t hate that guy’s guts.”

“Don’t know if this is what you want to hear, but if you’re smart about it, this situation with Governor Guy will pan out in your favor.”

Josh cracks a half grin and pulls his assistant into a quick side hug before he leaves the conference room to go take some alone time in his office before he has another meeting.

\---

Josh forever wonders how long it’s going to take him to realize that whenever Debby tells him something, she means that the  _something_ is about to happen in one way or another.

He’s reminded of this the Saturday morning following Tyler’s birthday when there’s a knock on his door. He figures Tyler forgot his keys or something, since the twenty one year old had already left the apartment to go do his own thing for the day about half an hour ago, but instead there’s a five foot three blond haired blue eyed  _someone_ with a cup holder of Starbucks and a bag of donuts in either hand.

“Hey, Josh,” Jenna says chipperly, as if she doesn’t practically hate Josh.

Josh just looks down at her and blinks sleepily. “Why are you here?”

Jenna invites herself in, which isn’t too hard since she’s tiny and quick and since Josh is too tired to try stopping her. “Want to chat,” She replies, simply, as she places coffee on Josh’s dining table and the donuts between the two cups. “Brought coffee and donuts.”

Josh puffs a breath out slowly as he closes and locks the door to his apartment, walking over to his dining table afterward. “What kind of coffee?”

“Peppermint mocha for you, and hot chocolate for me.”

Josh squints at her as he takes the cup meant for him. “What makes you think I like peppermint mochas?”

“Tyler does.”

Josh mumbles, “Tattletale,” under his breath as he takes a sip. “What kind of donuts?”

“The long chocolate ones; I forgot what they’re called. Cream in the inside.”

“Uh-huh,” Josh says quietly, sitting down. “What do you want from me? You haven’t spoken to me on your own in at least five years.”

“Figured we could try being friends,” She reasons as she sits across from him. “I know you think I’m a sneaky jew lawyer--”

“I kind of think you’re a  _bitch_. Don’t care about your religious beliefs,” Josh interrupts, bluntly.

“And I still think you’re a piece of shit.”

“Did Debby put you up to this?”  _Frown._

“Of course she did. It was either this or no sex for three months.”

Josh snorts. “Her and Tyler are evil, I swear. Withholding sex to get what they want.”

“He  _actually_ does that?”

“Oh,  _god yeah._ If he wants something, my dick goes nowhere near him until I give in. Usually. Though, he does use sex to bribe me,” Josh says the last part as if he’s musing something while he’s grabbing one of the donuts.

He stuffs it into his mouth, all in one go, and Jenna has to put a hand over her mouth to refrain from making a comment about how much  _skill_ something like that takes.

They chat pleasantly for a while until Jenna reveals more of her intentions. “You should go shopping with me.”

Josh deadpans immediately, saying, “No. I’m not that gay.”

“You won’t even hear me out?”

“I’ll compromise. I’ll go depending on what for, and so long as I’m not giving you feedback on outfits.”

\---

The two adults who really don’t like each other a whole lot end up in the infant section in a Walmart. Jenna’s idea, of course. Josh was uncomfortable, which was made obvious by the way he was shifting back and forth on his feet and the way he kept clenching and unclenching his hands in the pockets of his wool coat.

Jenna was babbling gently about clothes, and Josh can see why Debby likes her. She can be nice, obviously, and she’s adorable. Josh doesn’t personally think she’s adorable, but he knows that, objectively, she is. She’s small, dainty, and conventionally attractive. She’s too smart for Josh’s liking, though, and she sees through his shit.

Tyler’s obviously the only one allowed to see through his shit.

That’s a lie.

Obviously.

Point is, Josh is kind of just zoning out until Jenna’s tugging on the sleeve of his coat, asking, “Do you have any feedback on any color schemes?”

“You don’t even know the gender of your kid yet, Jen.”

“I know. I wanted to go with a neutral theme rather than pink or blue.”

“Grays, yellows, and unsaturated blue colors are neutral. So’s orange and red, but they’re kind of ugly colors, so, like I said, I’d stick with grays, yellows, and unsaturated blues.”

Jenna looks surprised at how fast Josh was able to come up with an answer, and she totally calls him out on it. “How do you even know that?”

“I’ve been in advertising for nine and a half years. I know what sells and what looks good.”

“Huh.”

\---

“So, what do you think Josh is going to think about your pedicure?” Ashley asks while someone works on her manicure. Tyler decided to accompany her on a few… errands that day, and figured he’d get a pedicure while she got her nails done.

“He’s either going to not care or he’s going to want me to touch his dick with my feet.” Tyler replies as he’s putting his socks on. Her nails are almost done, and after this, either of them have plans to drop by a Walmart to be, and Tyler quotes, ‘bipolar buddies.’ Meaning either of them need to pick up prescriptions, and possibly junk food since Tyler figures they’re going to get stoned later in the day. (Tyler’s been stressed, and he doesn’t want to smoke around Josh, given obvious things.)

The lady doing Ashley’s nails snorts softly at Tyler’s response, and Ashley flicks her other wrist as she leans towards the lady, saying, “His boyfriend is into some weird shit.”

“Foot fetish doesn’t even scratch the surface of weird, Ash,” Tyler’s saying with a roll of his eyes.

\---

“I like your apartment,” Tyler mumbles as he lets himself sink into Ashley’s couch. It’s a big couch, a fluffy one, and Tyler kind of likes it better than the contemporary brick Josh owns. Josh’s couch  _looks_ nice, but it’s not comfortable enough to sleep on. “You got nice furniture.”

“It’s secondhand, but it works,” She states as she rifles through a grocery bag, trying to find the bag of chips they’d gotten. “Didn’t you give up weed and liquor?”

Tyler looks up and to the right towards her small kitchen, catching the raised eyebrows kind of glance she throws at him. “I did, but then I ended up in another life threatening situation, and although my therapist forbids it, I think I deserve to get stoned.”

“Do something fun at least, man. Weed makes you all  _sorts_ of tired,” After this, Ashley throws a baggy from her spot in her dining room at Tyler, where he’s sitting on the couch. “Think there’s paper in the drawer on the coffee table. Anyways, you know dealers, dude. You could so hook me up with something, like… that’s not weed.”

“Like what?” Tyler laughs.

“I dunno. What kind of shit have you done? I need to experiment.” She opens the chip bag and starts the, like, ten second expedition to where she was at to plot down onto the couch next to Tyler.

“Ecstasy, coke, LSD, and crystal are all I’ve tried. Dallon gave me a horror story about heroin so I haven’t touched that and I don’t plan to.”

“Wait, like, meth?” Ashley gives Tyler a wide-eyed look.

“It’s overrated. Just gave me a headache and made everything too… fast. Cocaine did the same shit basically, just, like… not as extreme.”

“What’s ecstasy like?”

“I just got super horny and ended up having sex for, like, four hours.” Tyler grunts half way through that as he sits up to get to rolling a joint.

“Four fuckin’ hours? What do you even  _do_ for four hours?”

“I mean, not constant fucking, but, like… a collective four hours. Like, we’d go at it once, then get a second wind, then a third, fourth, and fifth. And then the next morning Josh’s mom popped up and I accidentally outed him by getting orange juice in my underwear.”

“Isn’t he like forty? How did you even out someone that old?”

“He’s thirty two, you  _bitch,”_ Tyler quips back with a scoff. “He’s… weird. Never really talked or talks to his parents. Or his mom. His dad died a few years ago. He doesn’t really open up to people too often. I’m the exception, of course.”

“Sounds sad.” Ashley shrugs and opens a bottle of vodka, pouring a bit into either of the small glasses she’d already set out in anticipation for this very moment earlier that day. The grape juice, which was Tyler’s idea, gets poured into either of the glasses next. The younger of the two, Tyler, said that, maybe, grape juice and vodka would taste like some sort of sweet wine. “I still want to know how you beat me on losing your v-card. Like, one minute, you’re Virgin McVirginpants, the next you’re some slutty little sex fiend.”

“Listen, Ash, take my advice--wait until you meet someone you really like. I mean, I got lucky with Josh, but sex is like… Okay, we’re getting stoned anyways, so do you want to have a deep conversation?”

“Hell yeah. Let’s light up and get this show on the road.”

Tyler snorts. “Do you got a lighter? I don’t really smoke anything at all, so, uh, y’know, man.”

She holds up a finger, and within a few minutes, they’re leaning back on the couch, sipping shitty drinks which didn’t really end up being that delicious, smoking, and Tyler’s getting on with the deep conversation.

“Anyways, what I was saying. I hate all that abstinence and ‘save it for marriage’ bullshit, like, I do, but after I got all that wild fucking out of my system, sex is kind of like… a reward, or something. Not a reward. Uh. It’s like… it’s something that I don’t really treat lightly anymore. I mean, if a guy is hot enough, I will totally give it up to him within seconds, don’t doubt me, but, y’know, man…” Tyler takes a drag from the joint, before passing it to Ashley, and then exhaling, watching the way the smoke drifts from his nose and mouth an dissipates into the air. “I almost exclusively sleep with Josh, and we don’t go at it every other day like we did when shit was all weird. Like, once or twice a week, sometimes more, sometimes less. It’s always an experience, though, even if it’s just a quickie before he has work or before I have school or whatever. Love and all that jazz. It’s always better if you love whoever you’re doing it with.”

Their conversation goes on, and after either of them are growing more and more inebriated, Ashley drops the bomb. “Would you be willing to, like… have sex with me?” She smiles, awkwardly, and Tyler giggles, thinking she’s joking. “Stop laughing, man. I’m--I’m serious.” She’s giggling too. “I feel like if I don’t--don’t just  _do it_ and get it over with, then I’ll never get around to it. And--and I trust you, man, more than anything.”

And Tyler, being in a not particularly solid state of mind, what with being both drunk and high, just shrugs, saying, “Eh, sure. Haven’t slept with a girl before anyways. Gotta ask J, though, and make sure it’s chill. Don’t know what one night stands with your best friends count as when it comes to rules ‘n’ stuff.”

\---

Josh kicks his feet slightly as he nibbles on crackers, reading a book, leaning almost lazily on his elbow, which rests on the counter of the bar in his kitchen, when Tyler comes stumbling in, disheveled, smelling like weed, and not keeping his eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time before blinking slowly.

“Straight sex is fucking  _weird,”_ He slurs as he walks over to the fridge, feet heavy, to grab a carton of orange juice. “Like… it’s so…  _wet._ And you don’t gotta finger girls for ten years before they’re ready to just…  _take it.”_

Josh snorts. “I hope you at least showed her a good time.”

“No idea,  _man._ Girls are so different. Like, they got different parts. I mean, I think I did good, because she was all noisy and shit, but like… wow.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how stoned, and drunk, are you?”

“Very,” Is what Tyler answers with, drawing a giggle out of Josh. “What was the question?”

“Nevermind, sweetheart.”

“How was your day,  _Daddy?”_ Tyler asks, sweetly and drunkenly, as he walks around to stand close enough to peck Josh on the cheek.

Josh isn’t sure if Tyler’s trying to hit on him, or if Tyler’s teasing him about having one kid and another one on the way, so he ignores the pet name. “Went shopping for baby stuff with Jenna today, since Deb was conveniently busy. Bonded. Didn’t fight. Nothing too interesting.”

Tyler nods, obviously not listening a whole lot as he starts kissing Josh’s neck. “You should fuck me.”

“Nice try, baby. You’re stoned out of your damn mind. I’m not taking advantage of you, so you should go take a shower, put on some pajamas, then sleep. It’s late anyways.”

Tyler whines, but doesn’t protest further.

\---

Josh likes that he’s growing used to waking up to Tyler, even if the twenty one year old is nudging him awake and whining, begging him to get him something for headaches, and some water. Okay, he’s not… growing used to it, but more like he’s glad that he’s used to it. It’s better than waking up hungover everyday.

Josh kisses Tyler on the forehead and sleepily works his way through his apartment, which is dimly lit by the sunrise that’s just barely starting to peek above the horizon. He yawns quietly, and finds the bottle of Advil, and just takes that, and a bottle of water with him back to the bedroom, mentally claiming to be too lazy to just pour out the proper amount of pills into the palm of his hand.

Tyler’s sitting up against the headboard, wrapped in the duvet, hair sticking up in all directions, looking as if he were on the verge of tears, mumbling, “I’m never drinking again.”

Josh holds back a fond grin as he hands the bottle of pills and the bottle of water to his grumpy partner. Tyler gets four Advil into the palm of his hand no problem, but he spends a minute trying to get the bottle of water open before he gives up and holds the bottle out to Josh, who opens it with ease.

Josh crawls back into the bed after Tyler tells him to, and he lets the twenty one year old cuddle up to him, basically using the older man as an oversized teddy bear. “I’m done drinking for real now. I don’t think I’ve ever had a hangover this bad before. I’m literally in hell. Weed? No biggie. Alcohol? Get it away from me.”

“What’d you even drink?” Josh mumbles as he adjusts his position a bit to be more comfortable.

“Vodka and grape juice. Tasted like shit. We thought it’d taste like wine for some reason. Don’t ask why we thought that.”

“Try cranberry juice next time you mix liquor and juice. Cranberry cancels out the alcohol flavor.”

Tyler nods and kisses Josh’s chest, which causes Josh’s heart to swell with affection. “I love you, Josh.”

“Love you too, Tyler. You gonna go back to sleep?”

“No. Head hurts too much. Just wanna cuddle you. You’re warm. I’m cold. Arm hurts a bit too.”

Josh feels around until he has a hand on Tyler’s cast, squeezing it gently. “It’s getting better, right?”

“I assume so, yeah. I have an appointment with my doctor this week to have it x-rayed, and to get a new cast. Don’t lose your shit, but Min had a field day with this one. The dude saw it, and went to a bunch of my classes with me just to paint it. Said painting a cast was something he always wanted to do. S’why it’s all fancy.”

Josh nods, surprised that he doesn’t feel very jealous, if at all. “It’s cool, I suppose. Brendon drew a bunch of dicks on a cast I had in middle school.”

Tyler snorts and starts giggling. “What an asshole.”

“So, about last night…” Josh starts, suddenly thinking of something to tease Tyler with.

“Oh, god--did I say something?”

“Called me ‘daddy’ and asked me to fuck you a few times.”

Tyler groans and shifts a bit to more effectively stuff his face into Josh’s chest. “I was so drunk, dude.”

“Apparently you slept with Ashley too…?”

“That I remember, and I got your permission, so you can’t throw that in my face.”

“I’m not, man. Just wondering what straight sex is like.”

“Overrated, definitely. Like, it felt good and all, but it was so… Not gay. Though, I deserve some kudos, because I’m apparently a  _god_ in bed. Well, either that, or she’s good at faking orgasms.”

“How many?”

“Three,” Tyler replies in a sing-song voice.

Josh chuckles. “Impressive. I still hold the record for the most times I’ve made someone cum, though.”

“Blah, blah, dickhead. It’s hard to make girls, like, cum, so eat my ass, Joshua.”

“That an offer or a threat?”

“I’m, like, really comfortable, J, or I’d let you eat me out. Also, if you move, I will be very… displeased. You’re so  _comfy,”_ Tyler sighs happily, and pats Josh on the face.

\---

As the Advil starts taking effect, Tyler starts waking up more, and drags Josh to the diner for a Sunday morning breakfast date. And so he can eat some hangover food. They don’t talk a whole lot during breakfast, aside from small talk and exchanging a few small looks here and there.

Later in the day, probably around four in the afternoon, maybe later, Josh says to Tyler, “I think I want to hit Atlantis tonight.”

“Let me get this straight--you want to go to a club?”

“I want to go to a club.”

“What are you even going to do? You can’t drink, you can’t do drugs, and it’s going to be awkward if we go home together and you have someone else with you…?”

“And who said you’re going?” Josh cocks an eyebrow at Tyler.

“I did. The only other person besides you I’ve slept with in the six months was Ashley and we were both stoned and drunk off our asses. Also, I’m gay.”

Josh squints and goes back to scrubbing a plate with a rag.

“Answer me, J. What are you even gonna do there?”

“Just curious, honestly. Wondering what I’ve been missing. Might meet another seventeen year old.”

Tyler scoffs and throws a coaster at him. “Twenty five and up. I got dibs on being the youngest guy you’ve ever fucked.”

“Thirty and younger for you, then. I got dibs on being the oldest,” Josh remarks as he turns his head to give Tyler a playful look. “They serve water at the bar in there, and I’m sure I could, like, drink enough cranberry juice to put them out of business.”

“I suppose I could allow this to happen.”

“You could allow? I wasn’t asking for permission, Tyler.”

“Too bad. Like our friends say, you’re whipped.” Tyler flinches as the coaster comes flying back at him and giggles.

“Eat me, Tyler.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

\---

Josh sips at a bottle of water and tries chatting with Tyler over the loud music in the club. They give up after a while, and Tyler takes to groping Josh through his pants and kissing his neck, until he spots a guy to go hit on.

The guy isn’t anything special in Josh’s opinion. Probably the same height as he (Josh) is with brown hair and Josh can’t tell what color his eyes are, but he assumes they’re brown. Tyler has a thing for six foot tall men with brown hair and brown eyes, Josh has noticed. Josh has also noticed that he, himself, is basically Tyler’s type.

Tyler pecks Josh on the lips for a split second before he slips into the crowd to go chase after the guy. The club isn’t overly packed, considering it’s a Sunday, meaning Josh can easily keep an eye on Tyler. He knows that the younger man can take care of himself, but he still worries, especially considering there’s still a cast on his right arm.

Meanwhile, Tyler’s swaying to the upbeat music blasting throughout the club, saying a few filthy things here and there to the guy, somewhat satisfied when he feels hands on his ass. He draws the line when he feels a hand on his dick, though. He removes the hand from his dick, raising his voice to say, “Save it for the backroom, buddy,” but the guy doesn’t listen.

The hand returns to his dick, and Tyler can feel lips on his neck and another hand threading fingers through his hair. Tyler tries again, saying, “Dude, back off a bit,” and nudging the guy gently, but,  _alas, he doesn’t listen._

Tyler has no idea how he used to deal with men getting handsy with him, but right now, his patience is running low. He’s uncomfortable, and doesn’t want to cause a scene, or at least do so himself, so he manages to get Josh’s attention, subtly throwing up three fingers that mean, “Get me out of here.”

Josh abandons his bottle of water and confidently strides over to where Tyler’s sort of struggling, a dark look plastered onto his handsome face.

When Josh is about a yard away, Tyler raises his voice again, repeating, “Back off,” once more, and when the guy, y’know, doesn’t listen, Josh has an arm between them, and he, himself, is saying, “He said  _back off,_ asshole.”

The guy looks miffed, but he doesn’t stick around, so Josh turns towards Tyler, and jerks his head towards the door. The younger of the two nods, and lets Josh lead him out from the establishment by the hand. Josh takes his jacket off and drapes it over Tyler’s shoulders when they’re out of the club, and as they’re walking back towards the diner, which Josh’s car is parked in front of, Josh just says, “I’m done.”

Tyler frowns slightly. “Done?”

“Done.”

“Done with what?” He chuckles and knocks into Josh gently with his hip, pulling the man’s jacket tighter around his small frame.

“Other people. Like, I’m done with drugs and drinking and fucking around. Wanted to go out tonight to make sure ‘fore I said anything.” Josh mumbles most of that as he glares at nothing in particular.

“So, what? You trying to bust out the ‘m’ word?” One of Tyler’s eyebrows are raised curiously.

“I don’t think the sidewalk between Atlantis and the diner is the place to have this talk.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Tyler points out, sort of playfully, as Josh takes his hand in his for the second time in the past five minutes.

“Yeah, yeah.” Josh casts a glance at Tyler, and fails to hold back a smile that spreads across his face in response to the way Tyler looks under the street lamps and from the sudden burst of affection he gets from it.

His hazel-brown-green eyes are sparkling, reflecting lights back at Josh, wide and round, looking up at him oh-so adoringly. Tyler’s freckles are more noticeable now too for some reason. They’re darker than Josh remembers, sticking out like a sore thumb, looking like sprinkles on a cupcake. Brown sprinkles on a very tan cupcake.

Tyler looks a lot more handsome than he did when Josh first met him. That’s something the thirty two year old keeps noticing. At seventeen, Tyler was just  _cute._ He had a layer of baby fat on his face still, and his body language was so much more awkward than it was now, which, honestly, seems like it shouldn’t be possible, but, well, it  _is._ Now, at twenty one, he actually has facial hair. Not a lot, of course, and Josh knows he won't ever be able to grow a beard, but he has enough facial hair to where his face gets scruffy and to where he can give Josh some beard burn if he isn’t careful.

“You got that dumb grin on your face, J. What are ya thinkin’ about?”

And now Josh curses himself, because Tyler has told him a few times that he has a habit of grinning like a dumb ass whenever he’s thinking something mushy or overly…  _gay_ about Tyler. Point is, though, Tyler’s proven himself right. “You look handsome,” Josh answers, honestly, before grinning even wider at the way Tyler immediately looks away from him, cheeks burning red. (Well, either he’s blushing really bad, or the mid-winter weather of Ohio is getting to him.)

Shortly after that, they’re approaching Josh’s car, and Josh walks Tyler over to the passenger side of the car, and opens his door for him before making his way back to the driver side of the car so he can, y’know, drive.

“So, what did you mean by saying you’re ‘done?’”

“Are you that  _this_ is the place to be talking about that?”

“No one can hear us, and we’re in close proximity, and, also, you can’t necessarily run right now, so, yes, this is the place.” Tyler gives Josh an even look.

Josh sighs, and a minute passes before he gives in and says, “I told you. Said I was done with all the partying and fucking around bullshit. Phrased differently, of course.”

“Uh-huh. Then I asked about the ‘m’ word.”

“How would you… feel about that…? I mean, you still sleep with other people, and I don’t want to trap you--”

“Shut up, dude. I slept with Ashley, but there were reasons. Like, she wanted to lose her virginity and I’m her best friend who she trusts more than anyone kind of reasons. Before that it was one of my professors because I needed a D to turn into an A. And before  _that_ was before you turned thirty one probably. Like, I’m about as done as the hamburgers at the diner.”

“Oh,” is all Josh has to say. His voice is caught in his throat, and his stomach is tying into knots, and he really wants to ask, but his body, and his nerves, aren’t letting him.

“Do you want to be exclusive? Like, just me and you? The ol’ monogamy train?”

“Monogamy train?”

“You called it that at some point, and you’re the one who brought all this up, man.”

Josh nods slowly. “If one of us fucks up, though, can we not make a big deal out of it…?”

“Josh, I get you, alright? I know what you’re like and I know that, deep down, you’re loyal to me. Our relationship is weird and complicated but also super simple but weird enough that I can’t explain it, but, like, I got ya. One step at a time, dude. Don’t force yourself.”

“I’m not forcing myself.”

“Alright then. What do you want?”

“What you just said. Being… exclusive and all that. Just me and you. Y’know.” Josh shrugs and shifts his position in his seat as he continues driving. The street is packed, since it’s rather busy despite being Sunday, meaning the drive to Josh’s apartment is taking longer than expected and necessary.

\---

“So, you’re doing it? You’re letting the politician guy hire you?” Tyler asks the next morning, at the diner, while he shares breakfast with Josh, Dallon, and Brendon. Brendon’s hungover and not really listening, and Dallon’s just picking at his waffles, yawning once in a while.

“I need the money,” Josh mumbles with a shrug.

Seeming bored, Dallon asks, “What politician?” Tyler’s pretty sure he isn’t bored, but rather really tired.

“Some moneybags guy. Real douchebag, wanted to hire him to run his political campaign,” Tyler answers before Josh can even think about answering for himself.

“Deb said if I’m smart I’ll figure out how to work this to my advantage.”

“Who’s the guy?” Brendon asks as he totally inconspicuously places his bacon onto Dallon’s plate.

“Jonathan Bell.”

Now, Brendon looks up, and Tyler recognizes the  _look_ on his face. It’s the, “I’m about to pick a fight with Josh,” look, and it’s also the, “I’m basically begging Tyler to backhand me,” look.

 _“Jonathan Bell?_ Seriously? Are you kidding me, Josh? That guy? Are you  _stupid?”_

“No, actually, I’m  _smart,”_ Josh replies with a sarcastic smile on his face. “Would you turn down two million dollars, potentially more, just because you don’t agree with a guy’s political views?”

“I would when he’s basically Satan incarnated!"

Dallon rubs Brendon’s shoulder, and shushes him. Pete decides to walk over at that moment carrying a glass of grapefruit juice for Dallon, on the house, mumbling something about anemia, and that’s also the moment when Brendon decides to bat Dallon’s hand away. “Don’t shush me. Josh is basically enabling that guy to destroy Ohio.”

“Ohio fucking sucks anyways,” Tyler counters.

“He hasn’t even accepted my offer yet, so tuck your dick back into your shorts, Brendon,” Josh snaps.

Pete speaks next. “Whoah, whoah, slow down, cowboys. What’s going on with Josh destroying Ohio?”

“Jonathan Bell wants to hire Josh to run his campaign and Brendon’s having an aneurysm over it,” Dallon explains before taking a hearty sip of his grapefruit juice.

“Tyler, you’re his boyfriend or whatever. Tell him not to do this.” Brendon looks worried, upset even, and Tyler spiritually rolls his eyes at the older man.

“Part of being his  _partner_ is supporting him whenever he has to do something tough, not controlling him. Listen, I’m not particularly happy about this either, but if it pays my tuition and puts food on the table, then I’m not going to complain.”

Pete clicks his tongue and shakes his head, muttering, “I hope you’ve thought this through,” to Josh as he walks back to the counter to take an order.

Brendon starts bickering with Josh, before he ends up storming out, saying, “I’m leaving.”

“Dude, you work like fifteen miles from here,” Dallon says back to him in a raised voice.

“Then I’ll fucking walk!”

Dallon grumbles, “Christ, he’ll do it, too,” under his breath before throwing a twenty dollar bill onto the table to cover whatever he and Brendon had eaten, and saying his goodbyes to Tyler and Josh.

Josh sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Dunno if I’m ready for another year of this shit from everyone.”

Tyler pecks him on the cheek. “I believe in you, man.”


	5. Chapter 5

Min catches sight of Tyler’s fresh cast two weeks after he’d gotten a new one, meaning that was the day Min decided to skip his classes to paint Tyler’s class. Again. At this point, it’s the week before winter break starts, meaning either of them have taken most of their finals, and also meaning that their teachers have quit giving a shit about classes, until the new semester of course, so Min decides to use that day as an opportunity to chat, and to pester Tyler for some answers about a _thing._

“Saw your boyfriend on the news last night with Jonathan Bell,” Min says, seemingly casually, as he’s laying down a few guidelines on Tyler’s cast so he knows where and what to paint on it, occasionally looking to the reference picture he’d brought with him.

“Mhm,” Is all Tyler responds with as he uses his free time in this class to work on a song that he’d been meaning to polish up. Lyrically, at least. He saves instrumental stuff for whenever he’s at home, usually.

“Just struck me as odd, considering he’s gay.”

Tyler looks up for a split second, and mentally snorts at how Min is the image of nonchalance. His hair, which is green and faded, looking almost silver, is messy, with a few strands falling onto his face, the rest pulled up into a messy bun, and his eyebrows are raised ever so slightly. His body language screams casual and relaxed as well.

“He’s running Bell’s political campaign. I’d have jumped down his throat, trust me, but he’s getting paid _ten_ million, and that’s the kind of money you can’t turn down, especially when it’s paying for _my_ tuition, and any other tokens of Josh’s esteem.”

“Thought your boyfriend was just an ad exec.”

“He is, but he’s good at his job, and he’s very… persuasive. Managed to talk an extra eight million out of Bell. Why are you so nosey?”

“I have a special interest in you and the affairs of your life. Call it creepy if you want, but you did kind of homewreck my engagement.”

“You’re the one who cheated on your ex fiance with me, asshole.”

“You cheated on your boyfriend with me.”

“Not like he walked in on us fucking, and I came clean about it rather than being a sneaky little weasel.”

“And this is why I’m making it a personal goal never to piss off a musician. You’re all… wordy, and vicious.”

“You can paint pictures of me decapitated, and I’ll write songs about you being an asshole. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good.” Min goes back to laying down a base coat of white on Tyler’s cast, before thinking to ask, “Have you ever actually written any songs about me?”

“Nope, and I don’t plan to.”

“That’s a shame.”

“We went on one date and we’ve had sex twice. We don’t really have a particularly deep relationship, Min, and I don’t think I can spit out a song about  breaking up someone’s engagement, especially when I, personally, don’t believe I’m the one at fault for that.”

“Can we backtrack to your boyfriend and Bell? Is ten million really worth setting Ohio back fifty years? The dude is basically on some gay witch hunt. Death to all fags and whatnot.”

“How much is your tuition? What’s your dream car? What’s your dream house? What kind of clothes do you _want_ to wear? Think about that, then realize that ten million could probably buy all of that, and more. And also imagine running a company that needs every penny it can get, especially considering it’s barely out of its diapers.” Tyler gives Min a pointed look.

“I see where you’re coming from, but, like… I don’t know if I’d be willing to fuck over every queer in Ohio just for that.”

“Here’s the thing, though--Josh is smart, and knows how to play his cards. Bell probably won’t win this election.”

“So, what--is he going to do a shitty job on purpose?”

“No clue. I don’t know how advertising works, other than he knows what he’s doing. I’m basically the trophy wife. Except I’m not. I think Josh is still in the closet. Professionally, at least.”

“Bell probably wouldn’t have hired him if he wasn’t.”

“Good point.”

\---

Tyler’s sitting on the steps in front of the music building at his college, tying his shoe, the first day of his second semester, in the middle of _January,_ when Jenna calls his phone. Tyler gives up on getting his shoe tied as he digs around in his coat pocket, fishing the cellphone out, and flipping it open to say, “Am I being sued?”

_“No. I need a favor. It’s nothing major, but you’re my last resort.”_

Tyler sighs inaudibly, and looks up at the sky. “Depends on what it is, Jen.”

_“I have a doctor’s appointment today, and Debby has the car. Debby is also stuck in a meeting with your boyfriend, and, well… I’m supposed to be finding out the sex of the baby today. I need a ride and someone to go with me…?”_

Tyler can imagine her smiling at him sweetly, trying to be cute enough to convince him. _I’m glad this isn’t some weird world where I’m married to her. I’d be so whipped. I feel kinda bad for Debby._ “Uh. I don’t have a car but I could call a cab…? Would that work?”

_“It’s fine. I just want someone with me. Moral support and all.”_

“That’s completely fine,” Tyler replies enthusiastically. He cuts the call shortly after that so he can finish tying his shoe, so he can tell Dallon to pull a few strings and talk to his professors for him, and so he can call a cab to take him from the college to Jenna’s house, and then from there to wherever her doctor’s appointment is at.

\---

Jenna answers the door, and after dealing with Nathan basically catapulting himself into his arms, he hugs Jenna happily. Tyler thinks of her kind of like a mother. She’s had his back almost more times than he can count, and it means more to him than anyone may think. He kind of thinks of Debby the same way too, but Jenna is special.

Tyler carries Nathan on his hip to the cab, and after opening the door closest to the sidewalk for Jenna, he walks around the car to place Nathan into the middle seat. Tyler’s babysat enough times that he almost beats Jenna to the task of making sure Nathan has a seatbelt on.

The ride from Jenna’s house to the hospital is fairly quiet, aside from the faint noise of classic rock playing from the tinny speakers in the cab, the sound of Jenna’s fingernails clicking against a buckle on her purse, and the sound of a few buttons on Tyler’s phone clicking since the twenty one year old is playing Snake on his phone.

Tyler talks to Nathan, who babbles about a cartoon he’d been watching, while he lets Jenna play with the fingers on his left hand, after she explains that it’s something she does to Debby whenever she’s nervous or anxious. Tyler’s a nice guy--he’s not about to let one of his friends suffer quietly without a coping mechanism.

Jenna informs Tyler that this is, apparently, the first appointment she’s been to so far, as far as ultrasounds go, a few minutes before a nurse comes to retrieve her, and Tyler by association. Tyler trails behind Jenna and the nurse awkwardly, with Nathan clinging to one of his hands. Mostly awkwardly since, unfortunately, this nurse also happens to be the one that Tyler saw almost daily for six-ish weeks while Josh was in radiation.

When the nurse leaves the room after taking Jenna’s vitals, she lets out a breath. Tyler looks up at her from his spot on the floor, where he was coloring in a coloring book with Nathan, so he can ask, “Are you alright, Jen?”

“Just nervous.”

Tyler nods and goes back to coloring as he asks, “You hoping for a boy or a girl?”

“A girl, honestly.”

Nathan makes a face and says something about cooties, and Tyler giggles before saying, “Nate, you’re too young to be worried about cooties.”

Nathan sticks his tongue out at Tyler, and Tyler has to take a minute to gather himself since Nathan is basically the spitting image of Josh.

“Why do you want a girl?”

“Because I already have a boy.”

Tyler nods again, and the room falls into a comfortable silence for a while before the doctor walks in. Jenna’s doctor is hot, and Tyler’s half tempted to hit on him until remembering that he’s no longer in an open relationship. And after realizing that the man is probably straight, and married, anyways.

Tyler cleans up crayons from the floor and sticks them back into the box before placing both the box and the coloring book into Jenna’s purse before he hauls Nathan up and off of the floor and into his lap so he can sit in one of the chairs in the room while Jenna speaks to her doctor.

Nathan holds onto Tyler’s hand again while the two of them follow Jenna and her doctor to a different room so she can have her ultrasound done. Nathan asks a few questions along the way, all of which Tyler tries to answer as best as he can, with help from Jenna and her doctor once in awhile.

Everything in the room is staged like some sort of TV show in Tyler’s opinion. There’s a chair next to the place where Jenna’s laying on her back with her shirt hiked up far enough for her belly to be exposed, and Tyler sits in it, watching everything that’s happening curiously, since he figures that this will most likely be either the last time he’s ever in a place like this having this experience, or it’s the last time this will happen for a long time.

The doctor is looking at the screen, and he makes a noise which causes Jenna to start talking. “Is something wrong? Is the baby alright?”

Again, like Tyler said, everything is staged as if it were some sort of TV show, and this is proven when her doctor says, “Everything is fine, Miss Black, it’s just, uh…” The doctor bites his lip and frowns for a second before continuing. “You’re carrying twins.”

“Oh, Josh is going to have a cow,” Tyler mutters as he stares at Jenna’s doctor with wide eyes.

\---

Josh doesn’t question Tyler when the twenty one year old asks him to pick him up from Jenna’s house after he says something about having had enough of cabs for that day. Before the two men leave, though, Tyler drags Josh inside to sit while the two of them, Jenna, and Nathan wait for Debby to get home. Debby had decided to go to the grocery store before coming home, meaning she was taking a while, _meaning_ Tyler was running out of excuses to tell Josh other than, “Just wait, dude.”

Jenna takes Nathan upstairs to put him down for a nap before she disappears into the kitchen to fix up drinks for her, Tyler, and Josh, plus something to snack on for herself, which leaves Tyler and Josh sitting, alone, in the living room.

Tyler runs his fingers through Josh’s hair, which is freshly dyed red, and tries not to grin stupidly at the way Josh melts into his touch and at the way Josh just leans on him. “You doing alright, J?” Tyler figures he should ask this, since usually Josh isn’t so pliant unless something happened.

“Had a panic attack after a meeting today. Just tired and sort of overwhelmed right now.”

“I’m not bugging you, am I?”

Josh shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Not in the slightest. You’re helping, actually.”

“And you took your meds today, right?” Tyler shifts his position a little bit after saying this.

Josh nods again. “Yeah. Shit still happens, though.”

“I know, baby.” Tyler kisses the top of Josh’s head, and wraps an arm around him to hug him a bit before asking, “Do you want me to make you dinner tonight? I haven’t cooked since New Year’s.”

“I’d like that. Also wouldn’t mind if we, uh…” Josh trails off before doing the hand gesture for sex.

“You always want that, dude.”

“We haven’t had a chance to do anything since New Year's. Also, you get to top, so don’t complain.”

Tyler blows a soft raspberry at Josh, but doesn’t say anything else or tease him further.

“I’ve been having a really bad day and I just want to feel close to you right now or whatever,” Josh mumbles as he moves himself to where he’s laying down, head in Tyler’s lap, and the younger man’s fingers carding themselves through his hair still.

Half an hour later, Debby is back, and Josh is now upright on the couch while Jenna makes sure everyone is sitting and relaxed before she starts talking. “I had an ultrasound done today.”

Debby grins widely, suddenly remembering, and Josh doesn’t look phased in the slightest.

“Boy or girl?” Debby asks.

“Um, well… that’s kind of the thing…” Jenna shifts in her seat awkwardly and fiddles with her fingers as she nibbles on her lip a little bit.

“What do you mean?” Debby frowns a little bit, and Tyler can feel Josh tensing up a little bit next to him.

“One boy and one girl.”

_Silence._

“Twins?” Debby’s eyes are wide, and she darts over to Jenna immediately to pull her into a tight hug. The two lesbians giggle happily and hug each other for a while before Debby’s rushing back over to hug Josh too.

Tyler snorts softly since Josh is caught off guard, and since he doesn’t return the hug right away.

\---

“Twins? She’s pregnant with _twins?”_ Josh has an incredulous look on his face as he paces around the kitchen while Tyler cooks pasta from a box. “That’s nine grand a month that I’m gonna be giving to them, three grand per kid, and I’m probably going to give Debby a raise to help… Then I have a bunch of other expenses. What if I can’t afford it?”

“You made four million last _quarter,_ and Patrick already said you’re set to make upwards of seven this quarter. You’ll be able to afford it.”

“A lot of that money is going back into the company, because I still need to hire more people so I can take it easy, then I have other stuff to pay for…” Josh nibbles on a thumbnail and frowns while continuing to pace.

“Go sit down in one of the bar stools, please, Josh. I’m afraid I’m going to spill something hot on you.”

Josh sighs and obeys.

“You’re already worked up because you had a panic attack earlier today. Maybe think about this when you’re not already worked up. It’s like if I started thinking about my music career mid panic attack or something. Shit’d just get worse and I’d probably, like, die or something.”

Josh mumbles, “I’d kill you if you died,” under his breath as Tyler’s handing him a glass of water.

“See, that wouldn’t work. I’d already be dead and you wouldn’t be helping your point. Also, like, who else would cook shitty pasta for you after a bad day?”

“S’not shitty. You’re good at cookin’ that stuff. You don’t follow the directions one hundred percent so it always comes out better than the directions call for or whatever.”

“I’d make everything myself, aside from the noodles, but I’ve had a long day too, man.”

“How was your day long?” Josh asks, and Tyler figures talking about himself would probably help in getting Josh to calm down, since it takes some of the focus away from the thirty two year old and whatever problems he has.

“Oh, y’know. School. Been avoiding Ashley for the past month or so. She has a crush on me or some bullshit since I fucked her. Like I get it, and I should’ve expected it, but, like, honey, I’m gay, and unavailable. Point is, she talked to me today, and I had to let her down, so there goes that friendship until she forgives me or whatever. Babysat Nate for a few hours while Jenna took some time to decompress or whatever after her appointment before that little dude took a nap. Also, like, got some seasonal depression shit going on. I was going to use this afternoon-slash-evening to record a few things, but that’s probably not happening until tomorrow or this weekend or something.” Tyler rambles on even further, mostly to himself, and Josh listens intently.

“How are you doing in general, sweetheart?”

Tyler looks over at Josh. “Why are you askin’?”

“You don’t pay attention to yourself, or it doesn’t seem like it at least, and I’ve been busy traveling all around Ohio with Bell for a bunch of shit. We don’t, like, get chances to talk very often anymore.” Josh shrugs and leans back so he can look down into his lap while he picks at a hangnail.

“I’m fine, I guess. Just depressed and tired. I’ll get over it in a month or two when spring starts rolling around.”

“Maybe after the election next year we can go on a vacation or something. Take a break. You graduate this year, right?”

“Next year, Josh. You’re paying for my tuition. You should know.” Tyler huffs and throws a playful look at him. “Takes four years to get a bachelor’s. This is my third year.”

“The past four years of my life have been long and have felt more like twenty years. I lose track of time.”

“You’re just getting old, aren’t ya?”

“I will seriously kick you out.”

“No you won't. You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just noticed an author i REALLY like left kudos on this fic at some point and i really want to cry i lov their fics so much im shook


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> josh gets a backstory chapter now eat my ass, craig

Tyler travels to Cincinnati to do his second ever radio interview, and to perform a few of his songs, meaning Josh is left alone in the apartment for a few nights, since he doesn’t have anything going on. He invites Dallon over the first night, because, hey, he wants to have a bit of company, and, also, Brendon was the one who went with Tyler, so he was alone too, and—okay—this is starting to sound like they had a one night stand or something weird like that.

The coffee table gets pushed aside again, and they’re both on their backs on the floor, sharing a bag of chips, chatting, up until there’s a comfortable lull in the conversation that causes Dallon to say, “You should tell me your life story, man. You’ve heard mine, so it’s only fair.”

Josh lets out a breath and through a mouthful of barbecue flavored Lays, he replies with, “It’s long, and filled with drugs and daddy issues.”

“So’s mine. Except without the daddy issues. What I lack in daddy issues I make up with heroin addiction. Also that weird semi-platonic semi-romantic relationship I had with a lesbian. Point is, you sat through it.”

Josh rolls his eyes, and sighs. “Fine, you win.”

_\---_

_You wish that infants were capable of conscious thought so you could’ve told your mother to leave your father the second you popped out of her near midnight on June 18 th, 1971. You don’t think she would’ve listened to you, given that the ERA wasn’t even passed until you were nine months old and she probably wouldn’t have been able to support herself anyways. Either way, though, it would’ve been worth a shot._

_Though, if that would have happened, you probably wouldn’t have met Tyler, so maybe it’s for the best that you didn’t start talking within a few seconds of being born._

_You were an accident, unfortunately. A condom broke, and abortion wasn’t legal in 1970, when you were conceived, so your mother had no other choice than to give birth to you. You’re surprised she didn’t give you up for adop—actually, you’re not surprised. You remember her telling you something about your dad backhanding her for even suggesting the idea when she was only two or three months along. He didn’t want kids, but god forbid he let the one he didn’t want have a life that wasn’t miserable._

_You suppose that in very few respects, your father was a good one. For the most part, though, and from what you didn’t repress, he was a pretty lousy dad. You remember the fit he threw when your mother found out she was pregnant with your baby brother, and you remember him all but beating the crap out of her when she stood up for herself and refused to get an abortion, spouting some pro-life bullshit. Her little rant did put him in his place, but only after he, y’know, beat the crap out of her. You hid in your room that night and didn’t leave until you had preschool the next morning._

_Your brother is born two days after you start grade school, which, for some reason, seems like it set the tone for your life in grade school. Grade school, in general, is kind of a weird time for you. You’re smart—like, ridiculously smart, and you’re pretty sure none of you ‘friends’ realize it, not even Tyler. Maybe Debby does, since she met you in second grade, but other than her, you’re pretty sure no one realizes it._

_Speaking of Debby—Debby Ryan in second grade is taller than you, already beautiful, fierce, scary, and intriguing. She’s your only friend throughout grade school, probably even your best friend, up until Brendon comes along, at least._

_You coast through the rest of grade school doing advanced assignments, giving teachers vague responses whenever they ask about weird bruises or the way you sometimes limp, and even having to turn down an opportunity to skip ahead a few grades, since your father said that you didn’t need to be some fucking freak. His words, not yours._

_Dallon, in present time, asks about your father, and what he was even like, so you get into it, and tell him a few stories._

_The first time your dad hits you is when you’re seven. You can’t remember what you did, like, exactly what you did, but you do know that you made a mess, and that you forgot to clean it up, so instead of politely asking you to pick it up, your father had stormed into your room, interrupted you while you were working on a book report, and dragged you across the house, by your hair, to stick your face into the mess of fucking building blocks on the floor, yelling at you, talking about how disgusting it is that you can’t even pick up after yourself, not even stopping when you start crying, or even when you’re screaming and begging him to let go of you._

_Your mom tries to intervene at that point, but he backhands her. Your brother, even at three, already has enough common sense to stay out of the way and keep his mouth shut, which is a recurring theme until you move out. You get mad at him sometimes for not saying anything, but he’s still your little brother, and you still feel some need to protect him, even at thirty two._

_You get ten across the ass with a belt that day as well, and you couldn’t sit properly for at least three weeks after that. You think the only thing you got from that experience, and a few others like it, was your tendency to be ridiculously neat and clean. Being neat and clean meant not getting hit, or, well, that’s what your brain tells you, anyways, so that’s why it irks you whenever there’s a mess. (Present time, Dallon squeezes your knee, and offers you some sort of sympathetic and sad little smile.)_

_In grade school, until you move on to middle school, Debby’s there to hug you and let you break down in that childlike way without asking questions other than, “Are you alright, Joshie?”_

_Yes, she called you Joshie until you were at least seventeen._

_The only time you remember that Debby did anything more than just asking if you were alright was the first time you had to go to an emergency room because of something your dad did to you. It was sixth grade, the last grade of elementary school, and you were_ trying _to do some homework, probably math; you can’t remember. Either way, you were trying to do some work but, see, your arm was bugging you._

_The night previous, your brother had been the one to make the mess, and when you saw your dad heading towards his room to, presumably, beat him, well, that just wasn’t going to fly. You refused to let your father lay a finger on him. Of course, you fail in this mission a few times over the course of the time Jordan spends living at home, but this wasn’t one of those times._

_You’re also a sporty guy. On top of being smart, you’re pretty alright at most sports. Baseball, basketball, football, soccer, hockey—you name it. You’re athletic, and you’re fast, aside from a three year period between seventh and tenth grade where you were a little chubby before hitting the growth spurt that made you six feet tall._

_You manage to cut your dad off about half way down the hall. You grab onto one of his arms, and you purposefully say a few things that earn you a few fractured bones in your left arm/hand. (Up until this point, you were left handed, but you end up having to learn to write with your right hand, and you just… quit using your left hand after that. You wonder if Tyler knows this. If not, he’ll probably learn eventually._

_Point is, Debby notices you writing with your right hand, and she pesters you until you admit that your left hand/arm hurts too much to use, and she forces you to go to the nurse, and from there you’re forced to go to an emergency room._

_The rest of that year goes by about as expected—shitty, but not shitty enough for you to do anything. Middle school happens, and if you thought grade school was a weird time, then, well, you’re wrong—middle school is a helluva lot worse. No one really knows, aside from, like, Debby and Brendon, but you were bullied. People didn’t like you because you were a sort of chubby half Japanese kid with a lisp and an attitude, and you think that, aside from your home life, middle school was where a lot of your self esteem issues stemmed from._

_You’re pretty sure middle school is also around the time you start shutting yourself off from people emotionally, save for, y’know, Brendon and Debby._

_Brendon meets you in pre-algebra in seventh grade. Brendon as a twelve year old is nice. You think you might’ve had a crush on him for a while, but it was before you realized you were gay, so nothing ever happened. Just—look—he was kind of cute in this geeky white guy way, even though he’s, like, Hawaiian or whatever, and he was_ nice, _plus one of your only friends, so it was to be expected._

_Present time, Dallon thanks you for not knowing you were gay, and you elbow him before continuing._

_You connect with Brendon almost immediately as well. You share the same interests with him, mostly, the two of you don’t actually have the same schedule since you were in advanced classes, but you do share electives and math with him, and, again, he’s nice, and was one of the only people in middle school who bothered to be nice to you._

_You go to his house a lot too, both in middle school, high school, and college. You haven’t spoken with Grace since Pride in 2001, but you still think of her like a mother._

_She’s… a character, definitely, and, alright, yeah, you’re jealous of Brendon. You kind of wish she was your mom. You have plenty of fond memories of her chewing Brendon out in Hawaiian pidgin, and Brendon barking back smart remarks at her in the same language._

\---

“Wait wait wait—hold up—Brendon can speak _Hawaiian?”_

“He’s always muttering shit in Hawaiian _pidgin_ under his breath. Have you seriously not noticed?”

“Uh, obviously not. How the hell can he _hide_ that? I’ve met his mom _so_ many goddamn times, and they talk in front of me too. How can someone just… y’know, _hide that?”_

“I mean, it’s not like he’s going around speaking it every single day, but, hey, you should ask him about it.”

_\---_

_Grace lets you spend a ton of holidays with her, her brother, and Brendon over the course of high school and college, but more so definitely in college. Her house is still, even to this day, a safe place for you to go to. Of course, when you were still living at home, your dad had a coronary whenever you were gone for more than a night or two, but you’d take any break you could get._

_You eventually get around to your big gay milestone around the time you turn fourteen or so. It’s summer vacation, and you spend the summer vacation between seventh and eighth grade at Brendon’s house, just hanging out, and watching movies._

_On that specific day, you’d been watching Grease with him, and, regrettably, you had a crush on John Travolta, but never realized it. You tell Dallon that you popped a boner at John Travolta that day, and that’s how you knew you were gay, but that’s not the truth._

_The truth that you decide to_ not _tell him is that, well… You looked over at Brendon, and, lo and behold, he’d popped a hard on as well. You’re going to spare everyone all of the gross details, but, essentially, you gave Brendon a hand job that got cut off near the end by his mother coming home from grocery shopping and interrupting the two of you, so he never got to finish. That reason and that reason alone is the only reason you don’t consider it an official hand job._

_That’s probably around the time Brendon starts having a serious crush on you, and, in hindsight, you sort of regret the not actually an official hand job, but you also don’t, because that’s also what started whatever unhealthy fucking bond the two of you had (or still have, maybe) that saved your ass multiple times._

_You keep yourself busy in high school, mostly so you have excuses not to go home. You join a bunch of clubs. Like, a lot of clubs. You’re in the AV club, which meets during lunch, and you threaten Dallon with the murder of his first child if he tells anyone this, but… you were in_ band. _You had some weird freaky obsession with the trumpet, and, hey, you were ridiculously good at it, and—fuck—you knock Dallon’s phone out of his hands, but it’s too late—he’s already texted Tyler about it. You write Dallon off as dead._

 _Anyways, back to your little story. You’re in those two clubs, then you’re in football_ and _hockey, plus you’re taking a bunch of classes to prepare yourself for that advertising degree. It’s not an understatement to say that you were an overachiever. Hell, you even dated Debby for a year or two, mostly to get your parents off your back, and to prove to yourself that you’re straight._

_Obviously you’re not straight, but there was a point in time where you hated being gay, and you figured that, with enough hard work, you could turn yourself straight. You give up on that mission a month after you graduate, because Debby tells you she’s a lesbian and that you were just her experimentation, and that she also met someone. You tell her basically the same thing, except you didn’t meet anyone._

_A month after the whole ‘Jebby’ break up as Brendon would like to call it, you lose your virginity to one of the schmucks at Atlantis._

_That night in general was definitely… a ride. No, you didn’t ride the guy, but a lot happens within that night. That night you meet Pete, Patrick, Gerard, and Gabe, your lovely neighborhood drug dealer. Well, one of the fifteen hundred that peruse this god forsaken avenue, looking for naive eighteen year olds to prey on, at least._

_Your first time meeting Pete reminds you of the time you meet Tyler. This time, you’re in Tyler’s position. Well, you’re not in Pete’s apartment, you didn’t sleep with him, and you never plan to, but it goes similarly. Also, Pete isn’t twelve years older than you. He’s only five years older than you, which makes him twenty three at that point in time._

_Brendon slips into the crowd, so you decide to go lurk by the bar, not really knowing what to do, which is when Pete sees you and asks, “Is this your first time here?” with one of his signature bushy brows quirked at you as he sips a margarita._

_You nod, and he offers to buy you a drink. He asks another question while you’re working on sucking down the beer he’d bought for you._

“ _How old are you? Sixteen?”_

“ _I’m twenty one,” You lie, immediately, giving him some sort of look. He snorts and asks what year you were born._

_You have to think for a minute before you think to say, “1969,” and you also realize that, at seventeen, Tyler definitely reminds you of what you were like at eighteen._

_Pete calls you out on your bluff. “You’re lying to me, mister. You had to think before you said that. How old are you really?”_

_Unlike Tyler, though, you don’t count down from twenty one, but rather just say, “Eighteen,” right off the bat. “I came with a friend, but he ditched me.”_

“ _Bowl cut guy? He’s sorta cute. He’ll do good here.” Pete shrugs after that and orders another margarita for himself before scribbling down his address onto a napkin which gets tucked into the back pocket on your jeans. “I don’t have a phone, but if you ever need anything, feel free to drop by.”_

_Pete’s nice, and you immediately know he doesn’t mean that in a predatory way, so you smile politely and nod before he’s walking off and towards the door. You finish the last few swigs of the beer before slipping into the crowd. At eighteen, you’re lean, you’re cute, you have a nice ass, and you’re naive. Well, Tyler calls it naive, since you’ve shared the next story with him, but, like, anyways—the point is that Tyler calls it naive whereas you call it stupid._

_You weave through the crowd, letting strange men grind up on you, definitely enjoying every single minute of it, up until you’re on the other side of the club, face to face with six feet and four inches of Gabe._

_Gabe is a predator, plain and simple. A lot of people imagine predators in a sexual sense, and you definitely get it, you really do, but that’s not his game. Gabe specifically picks on young, inexperienced, and naive people, and he always offers them a_ gift. _You’ll admit it—when you first met him, you were hoping he was going to hit on you, because he’s hot. He’s tall, taller than you are even now, has a pretty face, and he’s funny. You didn’t know about the last part at first, but cute and tall is basically a formula for anyone wanting to get into your pants, at least from the ages of eighteen to about twenty three._

_Like Pete, he asks you if it’s your first time there, and you answer him honestly. He offers you a little… gift. It’s a small baggy with four pills in it, and you asks, “What’s this?” curiously._

_He tells you that it’s ecstasy and gives you a vague description of what it does. To an eighteen year old you, it sounds cool, so you just smile happily and thank him before letting him lead you to a secluded place to try it. You pop the pill, and you’re pretty sure that was, like, the gateway to your drug problems._

_You head back out to the floor after that, dancing, and loving everything the little pill is making you feel. You meet another guy. He’s handsome, broad and tall, and interested in you. You let him kiss you and grope you on the floor being letting him lead you to a backroom, and you let him fuck you. He doesn’t hurt you, thankfully, and you’re lucky._

_It’s not as if people intentionally hurt each other during sex, usually, at least, but it’s just that a lot of the dumb fucks you’ve met on this godforsaken avenue don’t know how anal sex actually works, and a lot of them don’t get that you shouldn’t just stick it in and go._

_Lube wasn’t really a thing in the early 90’s either, unfortunately, and you cringe thinking about it now, but the guy had just spat on his hand, rubbed his dick, then started, y’know, getting to it. The experience is painful at first, until you’re used to it, but it feels good eventually. It’s not good enough to make you want to bottom all the time, and, in fact, it’s one of the reasons that you only bottomed, on average, twice a year between the ages of eighteen to twenty three, then none at all, at least up until you meet Tyler._

_You decide to get this out of the way before you go on with the rest of your story, but you tell Dallon that the last time you bottomed before you met Tyler had been a little before you turned twenty four. Tyler knows the story, but no one else does, aside from your therapist, so you make the slightly older man swear himself to secrecy. He does, of course, as with everything else you’ve shared with him. (In all honestly, you think Dallon is your best friend.)_

_That last time, you were at some_ party. _You’d gotten invited to it by your boyfriend at the time, and you made the mistake of drinking something that’d he’d offered to you with some malicious little glint in his eyes, and, long story short, you wake up with a splitting headache in some bedroom you don’t recognize, and you can hardly walk your ass hurts so bad. (You have a high tolerance for pain, so that’s saying something._

_You don’t explicitly say the ‘r’ word, but Dallon’s smart, and you know he assumes. He lets you backtrack to being eighteen and losing your virginity, though._

_You meet up with Brendon fifteen minutes or so after doing the deed. He’s standing by the door, and looks relieved the second his eyes are on you. He hugs you, and you hug him back for a minute before the two of you leave the club. On the street, you stick close to him, even going so far as to hang onto his arm, until bumping into the third person you officially meet that night._

_The third person had been Patrick. Patrick at that point in time was kind of… dorky looking. He was barely five feet tall, sort of pudgy, wore glasses, and had strawberry blonde hair that was actually sort of neatly styled and not too much of a bird’s nest. He immediately knows the two of you are new the second Brendon asks, “Do you know somewhere me and my friend could get something to eat at?”_

_It’s nearing two in the morning at that point, and Patrick just introduces himself politely and leads the two of you down the street and to the diner._

_The fourth person—that one is Gerard. You’re hit with a quick pang of sadness—you miss him. He was kind of your buddy, and your mentor. He used to be the one working the night shift at the diner, though, except he did it to support himself and his artistic ways, or whatever he calls it, instead of doing it to get himself out of debt like Pete does. You still don’t know how or why Pete is in so much debt._

_The rest of that night is boring. You and Brendon scarf down a couple of cheeseburgers, while chatting with Patrick and Gerard about life and stuff like that, before going home to the small and sort of shitty apartment the two of you share in a shady part of Columbus._

_You start college a few weeks after losing your virginity. College is a lot different than high school. You have a full ride and all, meaning you don’t have to worry about finances, but it’s just… different._

_In high school, you were_ smart. _You knew everything, you didn’t need to study, and teachers pampered you. Basically, you were hot shit. In college, though, you’re not the smart one, despite still being ridiculously smart, you needed to learn how to study even though you didn’t know how, and you even had a professor straight up tell you that you were not, in fact, hot shit, within the first week or two of your first semester._

_You hated college with a burning passion. It was just a terrible time for you. You start drinking more, smoking more, and you start using a bunch of drugs within that first year, all while managing to maintain a 3.5 GPA, meaning it just didn’t seem like a huge deal to you that you were using… stuff._

_You tell Dallon that you basically ate cigarettes and drank beer, wine, and scotch like a fish drinks water, and that, as far as narcotics went, you tended to stick to poppers, cocaine, and ecstasy. You did try crystal meth at some point, but it just gave you a really bad migraine, so you didn’t touch it again. You also tell him to try to not take offense as you say that heroin was the one thing that you never tried, since it was something that you thought only idiots used. Dallon says you aren’t wrong._

_The July before you start your second year of college, you go to a psychiatrist, because things were just… horrible. Everything was bad. You felt terrible all the time, and you didn’t know why, so seeing a psychiatrist was the only choice you though you really had. (Well, it was the only healthy one, at least.)_

_You have a lengthy discussion with that psychiatrist, and she determines that you suffer from post traumatic stress disorder, thanks to your father, social anxiety, and general anxiety. You get prescribed some SSRI that you take once before selling to Gabe for a few bucks to cover your rent a few weeks later._

_You do more drugs, you drink more, and you have a few boyfriends. The December after you turn twenty two, you meet a guy. He’s nice, real nice, and if he wasn’t a scumbag, you don’t think it would’ve been too far of a stretch to say that you might still be with him._

_Okay, that is a stretch, it really is, but you’re telling a story and it needs to be dramatic. Y’know, interesting._

_He’s one of the people who perpetuated your drug and alcohol problem. He never suggested you get help, but rather egged you on, and he’s the one who’d invited you to that party you just got done telling Dallon about. You break up with him a few days after that party, and you go to NA for the first time, because that was your rock bottom. Or one of them, at least. Your second rock bottom was when you lost your good job._

_Of course, you relapse, and life kinda just… goes on._

_A few months before you turn twenty eight, Debby approaches you, asking you to be her sperm donor. Brendon is adamant on talking you out of it, saying they just want money out of you, saying that you don’t need that kind of responsibility, but you tell him off, and, honestly, you think you might’ve done it to spite him, but you agree to be Debby’s sperm donor._

_Also, like, Debby’s one of your best friends anyways, and she wanted a kid, so you weren’t going to be the one to deny her that, no matter how stupid you thought it was._

_You support her and Jenna financially, when needed, of course, throughout the pregnancy._

_The day Nathan was born was… well, it was an experience. Debby lets you be the first person to hold him, and you’ve never admitted this to anyone, but you fell in love with him almost immediately, and you’re a little bummed that you’re not one of the ones parenting him._

_He squinted up at you with his eyes, already the same shade and shape as yours, and made some sort of cooing noise, and_ that’s _when you fall in love with him. You’re probably never going to get to be a parent to him, but you still love him more than anything in the world, and you can honestly say he’s one of the two people in this world you’d die for. (Everyone knows who the other one is.) (It’s Tyler.)_

 _Flash forward seven months and you’re meeting Tyler, and, alright, yeah, we really don’t need to repeat_ that _story. You do give Dallon a quick run down of everything that happened before you met him, though._


	7. Chapter 7

Tyler cringes to himself at the way Brendon is watching him with an almost evil glint in his eye from the other side of the window in the room he’s in at some radio station. Tyler knows that Brendon currently isn’t his biggest fan, given the twenty one year old’s opinion of Josh at this given moment, but, like, the dude needs to suck it up.

Tyler’s attention is drawn from Brendon as the guy who hosts the radio show sits down in his designated seat so he can talk to Tyler a bit before they go on the air. 

“I’m going to ask you a few simple questions, routine stuff, then I’m going to get into some gossipy questions. Is that alright, man?”

“Why gossipy?” Tyler decides to ask. He’s fine with it, but he’s curious.

“I’ll be honest--people pay attention if our station is the one to provide the juicy info on people, and you’ve got yourself a bit of a following, young man.”

“What are the questions going to be about? Like, specifics and all.”

“Relationships, mostly. That’s some of the stuff people tend to be curious about.”

“Makes sense. Alright, uh, let’s do this.”

The guy nods, and after he smoothly introduces himself as the host of the show, Tyler awkwardly introduces himself as the budding musician from Columbus. He bullshits back and forth with the host for a while before they get to the interview.

The first question is one Tyler’s been asked a few times already, and it’s also one he has no problem answering. “How did you get into music?”

“In grade school, we had a thing in choir class where we played the recorder, and a bunch of other small instruments. I was, like, basically obsessed since the first time we did all that, and it’s just… snowballed from there. My parents--I’ll be blunt, but they’re well off, and they were able to buy some instruments and a few other tools for me to use.”

There’s a few more routine questions after that, mostly about how he learned to play so many instruments, how he manages to do everything on his own, and how he goes about performing sets at coffee shops or singing for change on street corners, before the first… ‘juicy’ question, as this guy would like to call it, is asked. “Before you came here, we made a post on our MySpace page, asking people to post some questions they had. A lot of people are curious--is there anyone…  _ special  _ in your life?”

“There’s this one person…” Tyler starts. He thinks to himself for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to phrase it without using any pronouns--can he do that? Can he actually manage to talk about some huge part of his life without giving away that many details? “The love of my life, honestly.”

“What’s she like?” The guy’s tone is suggestive, and his eyebrows are raised just a tiny bit, probably expecting some sort of crude answer from him.

“Uh, well, that’s where we hit our first hiccup. I’m surprised it isn’t common knowledge among whoever’s a fan of me, but, like… I’m gay. I don’t try hiding it because it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and I’ve gone through a lot of stuff just for being gay, so I figure it’s just… I owe it to myself to be honest. Anyways, though, he’s great. He’s real nice, and real handsome too.” Tyler chuckles after saying the last four words of that last sentence, then smiles to himself at the thought of Josh.

“Oh! Well, that’s--that’s interesting! Let’s backtrack a little bit though--what kind of things have you… gone through?” The guy crosses his fingers together and leans forward a little bit.

“I was the victim of a hate crime in the middle of the last semester of my senior year in high school. I also got kicked out of my home by my loving mother when she found out about the big gay elephant in the room. There’s also been a lot of people throwing slurs around at me, and I’ve even had a few professors at my college give me a harder time than everyone else just because of that tiny little thing.”

“That sounds real rough, kid,” The host gives Tyler a sympathetic smile, and then cuts the interview off for about fifteen minutes so they can play a few songs, and so he can talk to Tyler a little more.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I seemed a little… Shocked. I mean, I was, or still am, I guess, shocked, but I’m not homophobic or anything. I mean, I’ve been with my partner for ten years now, so,  _ you know.” _

Tyler grins. “That’s awesome, man. I’ve been with mine for… three and a half? Ish, at least.”

The two of them talk some more before coming back from the song break, and before continuing the interview. Tyler talks about Josh, talks about how he’d like to respect his privacy as much as possible, given he has a job where he can’t really afford to be outed, and pointing out that he’s just a private guy in general.

After that, he performs a cover of one of Ashley’s songs, of course with prior consent from her, then sings a few of his own songs, and after that he’s allowed to leave. 

Brendon trails Tyler out of the building, not saying a word, and when they’re in the parking lot, and while Brendon’s unlocking the driver’s door on his car, Tyler blurts out, “Will you cut it out with the attitude? I know you’re pissed off at Josh for running Bell’s campaign, but don’t drag me into it just because I’m in a relationship with him. We need to get along for professional reasons, and it ain’t doing anyone any good if you’re being all pissy with me.”

While Brendon’s starting his car, he responds. “I just don’t get why he’s supporting that homophobe. He’s gay for crying out loud. I know he needs the money, but I just--I don’t think it’s worth it to support someone like that, even if it’s for a goddamn fortune.”

“For one thing, it’s none of your business what he does with work, because you don’t work with him, or for him, so…? Anyways, as his  _ partner,  _ it’s my job to support and love him almost no matter what. He knows it’s wrong, and I really don’t think it’s fair how you’re treating him, or me, right now.” Tyler buckles his seatbelt almost angrily, before crossing his legs and glaring slightly out of his window.

Brendon shifts the gears in the car before backing out of his parking space. “I’ve been talking to a counselor about… anger issues. I’m working on everything, but there’s certain stuff that just pisses me the hell off. Homophobic politicians are one of those things.”

“Don’t take it out on me or Josh then. I mean, I get the anger problems, because look at my life, man--I’m an angry person, but I, personally, prefer to take it out by writing songs and singing about it. Singing angrily.”

“I don’t have any outlets or any strong talents, so it’s difficult for me.”

“Have you ever thought about music? You own a record store, man.”

“When I was younger, I considered it, but never went through with anything.”

“You could start now, y’know. It’s not too late.”

“I turn thirty three in a few months, dude. It is a little late for me.”

“Dude, no it’s not. What about all those old classic rock guys? They all do well for themselves. Anyways, you ain’t  _ that  _ old. Sure, you got, like… some lines and shit on your face, but, like… you’re not that old. You could totally do music.”

“I can’t sing. Or, well, I don’t know how to, at least. I don’t know how to play any instruments either, and I can’t write. I’m serious--it’s a hopeless dream.”

Tyler shrugs. “You think I got there overnight? I’m still not at my full potential, and I’ve busted my ass on my music since I was in grade school. It’s not easy, dude.”

“I don’t have any free time or the space to even try doing that stuff. Dallon’s apartment, although nice, is sorta small.”

“Then move somewhere else.”

“Yes, Tyler, I’ll gather up a ton of money and just  _ move  _ into a mansion or some shit.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Look, I’m just saying that the idea is there. You could try writing in general too. Just, like… vent in a journal or something. Maybe turn it into a novel or something. Who knows.”

“After the way I’ve treated you in the past, how are you so… gracious with me? It’s fuckin’ weird. If I were you, I’d be a dick to me every day.”

“Like I said, I have outlets, and I don’t take my anger out on other people unless it’s, like, a fight or something.”

\---

“The Center’s hosting a fundraiser, down at Vista, and they need a few people to draw some attention,” Pete’s the one to mention this, seemingly as an offhand comment, to Tyler on the first of February as the younger of the two helps the man wipe down tables in the diner.

“What’s the fundraiser for?” Tyler asks. He’s well aware that Pete’s hinting that he should promise to play a few songs or something, but Tyler’s the kind of guy who isn’t going to do something for a charity unless it’s for a cause he actually believes in.

“The AIDS hospice is running really low on funds. The guy who runs it is buddy-buddy with a few of the administrators for the LGBT center, so they’re working together to, y’know, host the fundraiser.”

Tyler nods thoughtfully. “How do you know about this?”

“There’s posters up and down the street, and I happen to be friends with one of the people from The LGBT Center. He’s a nice guy. We go out for drinks sometimes. Also, I’m pretty sure he and Patrick are a thing…? And I’m a protective kind of guy, so I may as well be friends with him.” Pete rambles on for a while longer, until Tyler cuts him off.

“You don’t have to justify yourself, dude. I’ll see if I can do something. Do you have the address for The Center? And possibly a name of someone I could talk to?”

“Uh, yeah, hold on,” Pete’s saying as he tosses a washcloth into a bucket of suds before walking over to stand behind the counter, which is where he keeps a pen and a notepad at. Tyler continues to wipe down a table as he watches the older man scribble down, presumably, an address. Pete strides back over and tucks the piece of paper into the pocket of Tyler’s shirt, after folding it up, of course. “Ask for Joe. He’s about Brendon’s height, and he’s got some major Jewfro going on. Pretty big schnoz too. You’ll know him when you see him.”

Tyler gives Pete a thumbs up.

\---

“Oh, Jesus,  _ Patrick--”  _ Tyler makes a face at the two men, one who he doesn’t know but assumes is Joe, who were in a somewhat compromising position on a couch in an office in the second story of the building that The LGBT Center is in. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

The man sits up, and dusts his blazer off. “Uh. Lunch break. An extra long lunch break. Why are you, like… y’know…  _ here?” _

“I wanna talk to  _ him,”  _ Tyler points at the guy who he’s going to just call Jewfro until he officially learns his name, “about the fundraiser that Pete told me about.”

Patrick clicks his tongue and leaves the room, saying, “I’ll get out of your hair, then.”

Which leaves Tyler alone. With Jewfro.

“Uh, I’m Joe,” Jewfro, or Joe, introduces himself with a hand held towards Tyler. Tyler steps forward a few feet so he can shake the hand.

“Tyler Joseph,” is how Tyler introduces himself, politely of course.

“If you want to donate to the fundraiser, you should wait until Wednesday. Wouldn’t do much good to donate now, honestly.”

“I’ll donate, but I want to help. I have a bit of a following, a mostly LGBT following, and my partner is a successful advertising exec, and I’m sure I could convince him to help out.”

“Leave  _ Josh  _ out of this. I know who you are. Josh is going to practically rape me of every cent I have if he helps out with this shit. He’s done it before in the past.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “You’re doubting how persuasive I can be. Josh is  _ whipped,  _ and I have him wrapped around my little finger.” Tyler holds up his pinky at this. “I’ll tell him to consider it his donation to the cause. Anyways, look--I want to  _ help.  _ I don’t see why you can’t let me help.”

“I never said you couldn’t, kid,” Joe rolls his eyes, and Tyler spiritually squints at him. This guy is kind of an ass. Not, like, Brendon level dicketry, but he’s close. "That night is going to be... sort of busy. There's a lot of  _acts,_ and we're trying to hype it up as much as we can, but we aren't having a whole lot of traction, unfortunately."

"That is exactly why you should let me have a chat with Josh. He's a fucking miracle worker when he wants to be. The hospice needs money, and we know the kind of person who can drum up some attention. Like, major attention."


	8. Chapter 8

Josh is working on doing his taxes when Tyler sidles on up to him, loving on him, kissing his neck and running his hands, which are quite warm, Josh notes, all over his body, causing the thirty two year old to think, _“He wants something,”_ to himself. He lets Tyler continue his shenanigans, and basically ignores him until he feels someone trying to give him a hickey which is something that just won’t fly. Hickeys are unprofessional, and Josh is working with four fairly large clients, plus the politician, at this moment.

Josh gently shoves Tyler off of him, and asks, “What do you need from me, sweetheart?”

Tyler takes on a cutesy tone. A cutesy tone that josh is embarrassed to admit makes him crumble fairly quickly. “A favor. Not a huge one.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“The Center is hosting a fundraiser for the AIDS hospice, but they aren’t having any luck drawing any attention to the whole ordeal, and you’re so good at your job, and I was wond—”

“No,” Josh interrupts Tyler, bluntly and sort of rudely.

Tyler isn’t fazed in the slightest, and he just pouts and whines. “J, c’mon.”

“I despise The Center.”

“It’s not for The Center, though. It’s for the hospice. Think of all the people with AIDS you could be helping. People like Dallon. If Dallon were to ever get sick, that is.”

Josh sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. Tyler, Nathan, his two unborn children, Dallon, and Debby are his weak spots. He also has a thing for being praised, which Tyler knows, and he really wants to curse the younger man for knowing exactly how to get his way with him. “How much are they willing to pay?”

“That’s sort of the thing… Could ya do it for free…? Consider it, like… your donation to the cause? It’s not like The Center’s overflowing with cash, and you have enough money as it is…?” Tyler tilts his head to the side a little bit and gives Josh another look.

“And how much are you going to pester me if I don’t agree right now?”

“I’ll pester you until you yell at me,” Tyler states matter-of-factly.

Josh sighs. “Fine. I’ll call Joe tomorrow.” After saying this, he leans back against the couch, and closes his eyes, sighing once more.

Tyler takes it upon himself to crawl into the man’s lap, and he grins slightly into Josh’s shoulder when the man hugs him. “Tough day…?” Tyler asks softly.

“Yeah. My brain hurts from taxes.”

“Why don’t you just ask Patrick to do them for you like he always has? He’s an accountant.”

“Gee, Tyler, I never noticed,” Josh drawls with a bit of a sarcastic chuckle. “He’s already swamped with doing other people’s taxes. I’m capable of doing them on my own anyways.”

Tyler nods and closes his own eyes, melting a little bit as Josh runs his fingers through his hair gently.

“How about your day?”

“It’s been long. Real long. I had classes in the morning, then I skipped my afternoon class because Min’s in it and I ain’t in the mood to deal with him. I went to the diner to get something to eat, but Pete had me help him clean tables, and he was all tired and shit so I couldn’t really bring myself to refuse to help him. After that, I walked from the diner to The Center, and caught Patrick and Joe basically mauling each other. Then I took a cab home and almost had a panic attack because the guy didn’t know how to fucking drive.” Tyler sighs, loudly, and apologizes for his little rambling, by saying, “Sorry about the life story.”

“You are perfectly fine. I love you, and I’m totally down to listen to your life story.”

Tyler sits up a little bit so he can kiss Josh gently. “How’d I get so lucky with you?”

“I’ve basically put you through hell, yet you call yourself lucky?” Josh smirks slightly.

“I never thought I’d get a chance to love someone like I love you, alright? Figured I’d just live some sad, closeted life.”

“I’m so old though,” comes Josh’s playful response, followed by a dumb tiny little grin.

Tyler rolls his eyes a bit. “Luckily for you, I have a thing for older dudes. You’re totally my trophy wife.”

“I think, logically, you’re my trophy wife.” Josh nips at Tyler’s neck. “You’re younger than me, you’re kinda pretty, and you’re all mine and I ain’t ever gonna share you.”

“You’re so possessive. Oh my god. Anyways, you weren’t sharing me in the first place. I’ve been yours since you fucked me that first time. Did you know you were my first kiss too? Like, you’re literally my first everything. Hopefully my only.”

“Your first everything? Really? You’re, like, kinda hot. I’m surprised you didn’t get any action before me.”

“Well, you should be glad. Since you’re so possessive and all. You were my first kiss,” _Kiss_ , “You took my virginity,” _Kiss_ , “You were, or still are, my first love,” _Kiss_ , “The first person who loved me back,” _Kiss_ , “And you sorta taught me what it means to be a man, too.”

Josh grins again, sorta shyly this time. “Shut up. I’m blushing and I might cry if you continue. You were a lot of my firsts too, by the way.”

“Oh really?” Tyler quirks a brown, and Josh nods in response to him. Tyler’s a little surprised, since Josh has kind of been the French whore out of their friend group, but he’s also not that surprised in a way.

“Yep. You’re the first person I fell in love with,” _Kiss_ , “The first person who’s ever, like, truly believed in me,” _Kiss_ , “And the first person who I’ve… This is so corny, dude.”

“I like corny, and you should know by now that corny tends to get you laid.”

Josh sticks his tongue out at Tyler. “You’re the first person I’ve ever made love to rather than just fucking. And you’re also the first person I’ve trusted in almost ten years to top. You’ve also taught me more about being a man than my dad ever did. You’re the first person who’s ever loved me, and not in a creepy obsessive way, or for my looks.” Tyler huffs and grins before kissing Josh. The two of them kiss for a while until Josh is pulling away, saying, “How about I say to hell with taxes for now so I can throw you onto my bed and lovingly fuck you into the mattress.”

“I’d say that sounds good,” Tyler mumbles softly.

Tyler squeals a little bit out of surprise when Josh picks him up, and he wraps his legs around the man’s waist as he’s carried to their shared bedroom. As Josh is walking, he grumbles, “I’m so glad I have most of my muscle back.”

“You just like picking me up because I’m so tiny,” Tyler says as if he’s boasting.

“You’re almost the same height as me. You are not tiny.”

“Damn that growth spurt,” Tyler grumbles as he’s thrown onto the bed. Gently, of course. In fact, Josh sets him down like he’s the most delicate and precious thing alive, and he sort of is, in Josh’s eyes at least.

Josh huffs a bit and grins to himself as he walks towards his dresser, digging around the top drawer before pulling out four candles, all of them Tyler’s favorite scents, and all of them bought for the rare occasions either of them were in the mood for some romance in the bedroom.

“Busting out the candles?” Tyler sits up a bit so he can peel his shirt from his slender frame. “We haven’t done anything with wax in a while.”

“I’m trying to be _romantic_ , you dick. I’m not in the mood for wax stuff anyways. Also, you’re the one who’s usually in charge when we do do stuff with wax.”

“I like to dream, Josh.”

“Maybe next time we fool around we can do wax stuff,” Josh mumbles as he places two of the candles on one of the bedside tables, then two on the other, lighting them as he goes. He walks back over to the light switch and dims the lights in the room.

When Josh is rifling around in the drawer that Tyler has dubbed the _“Lube and Condom”_ drawer, he asks, “Condom or no?” as he tosses a bottle of warming lube on to the bed on the other side of Tyler.

“Do you have any STDs?”

“Nope. I do not. How about you?”

“I’m clean. No condom.”

Josh nods and just closes the drawer. Tyler’s in his underwear, just his underwear at this point, and Josh takes a second to grab his ass before he’s taking off all of his own clothes, save for his underwear.

“You have such a cute, perky little ass, yet you’re so skinny,” Josh comments as he crawls onto the bed, sitting on Tyler’s thighs.

“Squats, J. I take pride in my ass.”

Josh has hands running up and down Tyler’s back, always stopping Josh as they’re about to go south of the equator, and he asks, “Can I touch your ass?”

“You don’t need to ask, dude,” Tyler’s responding with as he looks over his shoulder to look at Josh.

“I just wanted to be sure.”

“I’m going to have your dick in me within the next thirty minutes. I think I can handle you groping my ass.”

Josh rolls his eyes before gently placing his hands onto Tyler’s ass, effectively cupping each cheek, and eventually kneading the flesh with his thumbs.

Five minutes, at least, pass and Tyler has to grunt, and has to say, “I know you’re, like, obsessed with my butt, but I’m kinda getting horny, and ass fondling just isn’t doing it for me.”

Josh snorts ever so slightly before he climbs off of Tyler’s thighs to allow him to roll onto his back. “Jesus, Tyler,” Josh’s jaw drops slightly as he says this, at the way Tyler’s dick is so hard, forming a tent in his briefs. Of course, Josh is rather hard himself, but he was still rather shocked.

Tyler sticks his tongue out at his partner before motioning him over, then tugging him down and into a kiss. He sighs into the kiss, and pulls his usual move of gripping Josh’s ass and pulling his hips flush against his own.

Josh is gently as he tugs Tyler’s briefs off, but he’s quick about shucking his own off and tossing them across the room towards the laundry hamper. Josh scoots a little bit until he’s between Tyler’s legs again, hands trailing up and down his body, letting his lips linger on the younger’s neck, eventually sucking a bruise into it, then giving Tyler a confused look when he says, “You _hypocrite!”_

“What?”

“I can’t give you a hickey but you can give me one?”

Josh rolls his eyes. “Fine. One hickey. Better make it a good one.”

Tyler grins triumphantly and tugs Josh up far enough so he can get to it. He giggles slightly at the way he moans when there’s lips high on his neck, sucking and licking. Their hips are rolling against each other’s and they’re gasping softly.

Once Tyler is done with the hickey, satisfied with how dark and purple it is, he sighs, high pitched and desperate, asking, “Can we get this show on the road before I get blue balls? And before you get blue… blue ball?”

“Ha ha, very funny. Loving the single testicle jokes. We may do that, though.”

Josh grabs the bottle of lube after that. Tyler moans out of surprise when he sees it’s the warming lube. Tyler’s almost writhing when there’s three fingers in his ass. Not all at once, of course; Josh likes to work him up to three fingers. Tyler also likes this specific kind of lube, mostly since he can literally feel his own pulse wherever the lube is at, and since it’s just so _warm_.

Josh nips at Tyler’s neck when the younger man is making high pitched and desperate little noises when Josh’s dick is finally pushing past his tight ring of muscles, then thrusting in and out slowly and gently. At first, at least.

Things are, y’know, slow and gentle at first, but eventually they’re both desperate for release, and Tyler’s begging for Josh to go faster, and Josh is, obviously, complying. Tyler’s tendency to claw at Josh’s back rears its head, and he really does try not to scratch him up too bad, but he fails in that mission, and, hey, Josh has a thing for scratching so it works out.

And then Tyler’s coming, without even being touched, and it’s enough for Josh to cum hard and a lot.

“Jesus, Josh, how long as it been since you got off? I’m pretty sure you just busted a gallon of nut.” Tyler’s breathing heavily, mostly from the… exertion.

“When’s the last time we did anything…?”

“Two and a half weeks ago. Seriously? You’re, like, fondling yourself basically constantly.”

Josh rolls his eyes as he pulls out. “Been busy, and tired, and my sex drive tends to go down if I’m busy and tired.”

Tyler whines when Josh gets up from the bed. “Where are you going, man? I want to be cuddled.”

“You have jazz all over yourself, Tyler. I’m getting a wash cloth.”

“Warm water. If you wet it with cold water, I will commit homicide.”

“Love it when you threaten me,” Josh mutters with a snort.

\---

“Hey, Josh, Bell’s here for that one-on-one meeting you have with him,” Debby’s saying as he pokes her head into Josh’s office.

“Send him in, then.”

“Alright, alright; just wanted to make sure you weren’t fondling yourself or something.”

Josh waves his hand a little bit, motioning for her to leave and retrieve everyone’s least favorite politician.

Josh, honestly, hates Bell. It’s a given.

Bell’s kind of an intimidating guy. He’s taller than Josh is, which is a rare feat, and, honestly, the only person Josh knows that’s taller than him is Dallon, and probably Tyler within the next few years. His hair, despite his age, isn’t gray, but rather black, and Josh figures he dyes it, but he doesn’t know for sure, because within the past two-ish months he hasn’t ever noticed any gray roots. Josh isn’t sure on why he finds that intimidating, but he does.

Josh crosses his legs, and his fingers together as he watches the man take a seat in one of the chairs in front of Josh’s desk. Bell gets right to the point by saying, “I’ve dropped nine points in the polls.”

“I’m aware,” Josh says coolly back to him. “I’m doing everything I can, but you need to put in some effort too. I’ve dealt with this with clients before, but you’re not focusing on the right demographic, and you shoot me down every time I try convincing you to cater to people other than middle aged white folks who live in the suburbs of Ohio.”

Bell tries arguing with Josh, but he cuts him off.

“I’m thirty two and I’m half Japanese. I, personally, wouldn’t vote for you, but it’s my job to remain unbiased.” Josh leaves out the gay part, figuring it’s not worth it to out himself quite yet. “I’ve already told you before—minorities? Youth? The LGBT community? There are a lot of minorities, young people, and queers in Columbus, and in Ohio in general.”

“What do I do, then?” He asks, seemingly reluctantly.

“There’s a fundraiser at the Vista bar on Independence Avenue next Wednesday. It’s hosted by The Ohio LGBT Center to raise funds for the AIDS hospice. I think it would do you some good to show up, and to donate to the cause. There are a lot of people who would think more of you if you were to do that. But, if you want to continue running your campaign on bigotry and ignorance, then I can’t help you.”

“I’m not a democrat, though. What would people think?”

“You don’t have to be. Being a republican doesn’t mean you have to be a known homophobe. I’m not saying you have to go out and find yourself a boyfriend, but maybe showing a little sympathy would, y’know, help.”

 ---

“You cannot invite him to that fundraiser.” Dallon’s the one to chew Josh out this time. The thirty five year old had walked into Josh’s apartment the second he heard the news from Brendon, who had heard it from Pete, who had heard it from Joe.

“He’s rich. I got him to promise to donate at least ten grand. It’s a win-win for The Center and the hospice, and him. They get ten grand, at least, and he goes up in the polls. Sure, it’s not right, and there’s going to be a shit storm most likely, but the pros outweigh the cons.”

Dallon groans and throws his jacket onto Josh’s couch as he plops down. “I can’t even argue with you. Quit being right about things. I’m a professor. I should be the one to win arguments.”

“I work in advertising. It’s my job to be smart, witty, and creative. It’s also my job to persuade people.”

“Now would be a good time for a bottle of beer.”

“Tyler has some hidden under the sink in the bathroom in the hall. I only know about it because I was looking for a bottle of peroxide.” Josh shrugs and waves towards the hall. Before the man is about to exit the living room, Josh says, “Tell Tyler you stole a bottle so he doesn’t crawl up my ass. I’m pretty sure he counts.”

_Thumbs up._

\---

Josh rolls his eyes slightly at Tyler, who is sitting on the other side of the bar, giving him a dirty look. Josh pulls his phone out to tell his partner something.

 

 **Josh** : Quit giving me that look.

 **Tyler** : ill stop if you sock him in the face

 **Josh** : Yes, I’ll sock the man who is about to write a ten thousand dollar check for the hospice in the face, and get myself fired by him.

 **Tyler** : just hurry up and get to the check writing so I can get to my set

 **Josh** : What songs are you singing?

 **Tyler** : shouldn’t you be paying attention to bell lol

 **Josh** : The news guys are still setting up. I have some time to bullshit with you over text.

 **Tyler** : drown, ACATAD, ashley’s song garden, then im doing my own spin on a song that brendon actually wrote

 **Josh** : ACATAD?

 **Tyler** : its an abbreviation & its one you haven’t heard before. Its fairly new & for my next project

 **Josh** : Oh. Is it good?

 **Tyler** : I wouldn’t be singing it if it wasn’t.

 

“You have a dopey look on your face. You texting someone… important?” Jonathan Bell gives Josh a suggestive look, and Josh puffs his cheeks out for a moment.

“I was asking my… significant other a question.”

His eyebrows shoot up for a quick second before his face returns to an inviting expression. It’s all an act, of course, since he needs to try and seem sympathetic, but there are a few people who smile at him with some glimmer of hope in their eyes. Josh sighs quietly, almost inaudibly. Tyler’s quit giving him a dirty look, but rather a, _“You aren’t touching my ass for at least a month,”_ sort of look.

“Alright!” One of the camera men exclaims. “We’re rolling in three… two…” And then he points.

Josh crosses his arms behind his back and puts on a blank expression while a news reporter asks Bell a few questions. The man starts talking, a spiel about how he deems it necessary to show his support to such a troubled community, and it takes everything in Josh not to roll his eyes to the back of his head. He probably would have if he weren’t on the news.

_The LGBT community isn’t troubled. This is just a fundraiser for the hospice, which just provides healthcare to those who can’t afford it. I probably should’ve explained this to him. Like, people fucking die from AIDS, good people, nice people, and this guy has the gall to act like this community is filled with a bunch of degenerates. Which… well, alright, there’s degenerates in every community, but, well, gay people are normal. Aaand the interview is over and he’s writing the check. Alright. After this, I’m just going to sit somewhere that’s not too close to Tyler, but not too far, and I’m going to just watch what happens and answer any questions Bell has._

Josh ends up sitting close to the door, arms crossed, legs crossed, and staring at the platform in the bar tuning out the karaoke bit of the… entertainment. Brendon’s in drag and he’s the one trying to convince people to donate by sticking whatever bits of money they can into the large jar that’s sitting on a stand near where he stands.

“I bet his mother is proud,” Bell comments dryly into Josh’s ear.

“Actually, he’s a good friend of mine, and I have it on good authority that his mother is very proud of him. Hell, she’s probably the one who talked him into this. Well, her and his partner.” Josh is smooth as he replies, giving the other man an even look, as if he were challenging him to say anything else. “He’s a nice guy. Don’t be so quick to judge.”

Bell looks almost mortified, but he doesn’t say anything else. Josh has to try not to laugh when a few go-go boys are up there, taking off one piece of clothing per every five hundred that gets donated. People are cat-calling, Bell looks as if he’s shitting his pants, and he pipes up again when a dick gets flashed. “That’s illegal. I have half a mind to call police.”

“They’d be gone by the time the police got here. Anyways, if it drums up some cash, then who cares?” Josh shrugs and turns his head back towards the stage.

Another half hour passes before Tyler’s set to be on the stage. Josh whistles and people cheer for him while the younger man is setting up a few things, and Tyler sticks his tongue out at Josh, which draws a bit of a dumb grin from him.

“You know him?” Bell asks, looking concerned.

“I suppose you could say that. He’s a real talented guy.”

Bell leans back in his seat, and Josh is hit with a moment of realization of how uncomfortable he himself is, especially when Dallon plops down in the seat next to him at the table they’re at, throwing an arm around Josh’s shoulders, and stating, “Brendon looks fine tonight.”

“If you’re into that sort of thing,” Josh mutters. “He’s going to have acne from hell from all the makeup. Who did his makeup anyways? He can hardly write his name without fucking it up.”

Dallon rolls his eyes. “A mixture of him and Patrick. Anyways, hush. Tyler’s about to start.” Dallon shushes Josh, and Josh scoffs at him with a roll of his eyes.

Tyler plucks a few strings on a ukulele, before he introduces himself shyly, blushing when someone cat calls him. “Um, I apologize, but I’m not here to strip. I’ll save that for my partner.” Tyler makes eye contact with Josh as he says the last word.

Josh enjoys Tyler’s small set, up until the last song. It’s… controversial, to say the least. It’s the kind of song that Tyler sings loud and angrily and way too well as he stares directly at Bell, as if he were protesting. Actually, now that Josh thinks about it, this isn’t a surprise—Tyler protesting. The younger man is abrasive and loud about his opinions when he wants to be, and Josh doesn’t blame him. Josh looks at Bell a few times throughout the last song. He looks angry, embarrassed even, and Josh has to grab Bell’s arm when he tries to get up to leave. “If you leave, it’s going to look bad. Sit down, shut up, and deal with this like an adult.”

Throughout Tyler’s set, at least two thousand dollars are raised, which is better than anyone could’ve ever hoped for. Hell, Josh even gets up and drops two hundred into the jar. Things go south about three minutes after Tyler steps off the stage.

After schmoozing for a few minutes with a few people, Tyler heads to Josh’s table, and Josh knows it’s a reflex, but Tyler bends down and pecks him on the cheek. “Can I have your car keys? I wanna put my things away so I don’t have to lug them around all night. Also, can I just go home with you? I was crammed into a backseat with Brendon, Patrick, and Pete, since someone,” Tyler jabs Dallon in the shoulder with his knuckle, “refused to let me ride shotgun.”

Josh fishes his keys out of the pocket of his coat. “You can take my keys, but, uh… Tyler? I’m not—you just—you just _outed_ me.”

Tyler makes a face, and says, “Oops,” before grabbing the keys and leaving bee-lining it for the door.

And at that, Bell is standing up, and saying, “We’re having a _talk_ tomorrow about this,” before he leaves.

Dallon lets out a low whistle. “Rough.”


	9. Chapter 9

Josh sighs to himself as he continues to sit in the bar, letting out an obligatory chuckle or, “Ha,” here and there at Dallon’s dry and running commentary. He gags to himself at the corny way Brendon jokingly flirts with someone who’d catcalled him, and rolls his eyes at the possessive little remark coming from Dallon’s mouth. “He’s so getting it tonight,” is the first remark Josh bothers responding to.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“I may or may not have had one too many glasses of scotch.” Dallon closes his eyes and smiles slightly, before taking a sip from a bottle of water.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk before.”

“You haven’t. The last time I was anywhere near drunk was the first night I went out with Brendon. I was sober by the time I went back to my apartment anyways. I think I’m gonna have a hangover tomorrow. Maybe.”

“You rarely drink. You’re gonna be hungover, Dallon.”

“Any hangover tips from the master himself?”

“The master my  _ ass.  _ I don’t know, man. I usually just… took a bunch of Advil then walked to the diner since I only live a few blocks away.”

“And I live five miles away. Too far to walk. Eh, I’ll figure it out.” Dallon shrugs and waves his hand dismissively. “Where d’ya think Tyler’s at? It can’t possibly take this long to put two things away.”

“How long has he been gone?” Josh frowns and tries looking for a clock, but, unfortunately, seeing none.

“I dunno. Twenty minutes, probably.”

Josh sighs. “I suppose I should go make sure he’s alright.” He grunts as he stands up, cursing his knees, and his back,  _ and his age,  _ before grabbing his wool coat from the back of the chair, and tugging it onto himself slowly, then patting his pockets to make sure his phone and wallet were still with him. (They were.)

Dallon reaches his arms behind him, motioning for Josh to at least attempt to hug him. Josh complies, and tries, but it’s awkward, so he ends up just patting Dallon’s forehead, and Dallon squeezes Josh’s hips before the younger of the two is batting his hands away, leaving the bar shortly after. Josh does catch the slightly confused look he gets from Brendon, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, since he really doesn’t even have time to.

Josh lets out a breath, sighing when he notices he can see his breath.  _ Too cold.  _ He starts walking down the street, cursing himself for where he had parked, two blocks away. He’s had a long day already, and walking down the street, in the cold, at night, isn’t at the top of his list of things he wants to do. He doesn’t have too much of a choice, though. The street was packed in the first place when he has parked, and at present time, he’s slowly growing more and more worried about Tyler.

He spots his car eventually, and he notices that the overhead light is on, meaning Tyler’s at least in the car. Once he’s close, he notices that Tyler’s curled into himself, with his hands clasped over his head in the way he usually does whenever he prays, which is a rare occurrence in the first place. He usually only prays if he’s panicking  _ really  _ bad, or if he needs help in some major way. Josh vaguely remembers Tyler muttering a lot of prayers under his breath during the whole thing with him having cancer and all. It was a stressful time for anyone who knew them.

Josh taps on the window gently with his knuckles, and when Tyler looks at him with red, puffy, wet eyes, he frowns slightly and points towards the lock. Tyler obviously gets the hint, since he pushes it down, then reaches above himself to turn the overhead light off, saying, “Sorry; know you--you hate when it’s left on,” before Josh is crawling into the backseat next to him.

The backseat is cramped already since Tyler’s keyboard and ukulele are crammed in there, plus the few things that are kept in there in case of emergency anyways, so Josh is gentle as he puts one of his arms under Tyler’s knees so he can pull the younger man into his lap. Tyler’s long legs have trouble finding a place to rest, but he figures out a way to sit comfortably eventually.

Josh sighs and shifts a bit so he can basically cradle his partner, holding him against his chest, shushing and trying to comfort him, before quietly asking, “What happened…?”

“I’m just--I’m so fucking stressed right now, and everything just  _ hit  _ me all at once,” Tyler responds, voice strained. Josh has to let himself wonder how stressed Tyler really was if he just broke down out of nowhere. He knows that he bottles things up, and he knows that Tyler does it mostly for Josh’s wellbeing as to not put anymore additional stress onto him, but Josh really wishes Tyler would talk to him more than he does, and more than offhand mentions of how he’s doing mentally or physically.

“What are you stressed about?”

“Just--fucking  _ everything. _ ” Tyler says ‘everything’ in almost shouting volume. He starts hyperventilating and crying worse after that, which is impressive in a way, since it was bad enough beforehand in the first place.

Josh shushes him again, gently of course. “Hey, don’t yell. You’re going to be alright; I got you. I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you.” After saying this, Josh runs his hand through Tyler’s hair so he can brush it out of his face. (Tyler’s hair is cut almost the exact same as Josh’s, and his bangs are about damn near his nose. He needs to get it cut, but Josh knows how much Tyler likes to put things like that off for as long as possible. “Did something happen to trigger this, or…?”

“I just--I really didn’t mean to out you, I  _ didn’t,  _ but kissing you on the cheek--it was just a reflex, because I do it all the time anyways, but it just slipped my mind that I couldn’t--couldn’t just do that right now, and I just--I was obsessing over it the whole walk here, then remembered a bunch of other dumb shit I’ve done, and--and now  _ you’re  _ probably gonna be all mad and pissy with me, because you always are, and I--I hate making you mad--I try so hard not to, but--”

“Tyler, Tyler, you need to slow down. I’m not mad at you over this, sweetheart. I can handle it on my own. You didn’t do it on purpose, so please,  _ please  _ don’t worry about it or beat yourself up. You need to take a minute to breathe. Think you can do that for me?”

Tyler nods slowly, and lets Josh wipe his eyes off for him with the sleeve of the shirt he has on under his coat. Josh counts up and down from four and breathes with him until his breathing evens out, and until he’s not crying. It takes a few minutes, but it happens eventually. Josh holds Tyler a little closer to himself and kisses him on the forehead. It lasts a little longer than a quick peck. 

“Y’know, on top of  _ all this bullshit,  _ I’m freezing my fucking ass off.”

Josh decides to try lightening the mood by quoting one of Tyler’s favorite sitcoms, saying,  _ “Well damn, Jackie! I can’t control the weather!” _

Tyler blanks for a few moments before he starts laughing. He giggles over it for at least a few minutes, and Josh would be lying if he said he didn’t laugh either. When Tyler’s laughs die down, he sits up a little bit so he can kiss his partner sweetly. “You’re such a goof. Quit quoting That 70’s Show, man.”

“Well, I made you laugh, so I count that as a win. Anyways, I had to channel the Kelso in me.” Josh chuckles, and he takes his coat off so he can drape it over Tyler.”

“Wait--Josh--you’re gonna be cold now--” Tyler whines, and Josh can tell he’s about to start crying again, but he interrupts him before he can say or do anything.

“i’ll be fine, baby. Don’t worry about it. You need it more than I do right now anyways. You can wear it until we get home, alright? I’d offer to give it to you, but it’s my favorite.”

“Alright, alright.” Tyler sniffs a bit, then shifts so he can rest his head on Josh’s chest, eyes closed a bit. He mumbles, “If you’re Kelso, then I’m Jackie.”

“That’s a pretty accurate analogy. I’m tall and dumb, and you’re small but not that short, smart,  _ mouthy,  _ and you’re kind of a spoiled little princess.”

“If I wasn’t comfortable or warm, I’d hit you. Not hard, but, like… Y’know. You’re not dumb. I can’t argue with the rest, though. I’m kind of annoying.”

“You are not  _ annoying.  _ You’re a perfect little sweetheart, and I’m not even trying to tease you. I’m being serious. Like, one hundred percent.” Josh presses a kiss to the top of Tyler’s head.

“You’re so sweet right now that I’m going to lose my teeth. They’re rotting.”

\---

When the two of them get home, Josh asks Tyler if he’s allowed to hover, and Tyler nods and holds his hand while they walk towards the bedroom. Josh helps Tyler out of his clothes, since he’s exhausted.

“I haven’t had a panic attack like that in so long. I didn’t even freak out that bad when the thing happened in Seattle,” Tyler mumbles as Josh pulls his t-shirt off of him.

“Think the last bad one I had was the day Jenna told me she was having twins. Pretty sure it was just work stuff.”

“I always forget how exhausting they are. I feel like I could sleep for a million years, but I also feel like I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight. I can’t tell yet.”

Josh hands Tyler a pair of his favorite pants and one of his own t-shirts. “If you can’t sleep, I’ll try to stay up with you.”

“You’ve got work tomorrow, J. You shouldn’t try staying up with me.” Tyler pulls the shirt on, then steps into the pants before pulling them up. He ties the draw string as tight as it’ll go without hurting him before sitting on the edge of the bed while Josh changes out of the monkey suit. “You got a cute butt.”

“So do you. Anyways, it gets lonely being up alone. Trust me, I’d know. It’s nice to have company sometimes.”

“I don’t want you to. Work is really important to you.”

“You’re more important than work to me. Anyways, I’m my own boss. I could theoretically take off as much time as I wanted.”

“You need to work. You’ve said enough times that now isn’t a good time to be missing work unless necessary anyways.”

“Tyler, it’s just one theoretical day. Why are you stuck on it?” Josh looks over his shoulder for a second before pulling on a shirt of his own. “Also, should I put on pants or stick with the boxers?”

“Boxers, and I don’t know. My brain is just… weird. I’m feeling guilty about everything.” Tyler balances his feet on the edge of the box spring, since their mattress is a little crooked, and he balances his arms against his knees so he can press his palms against his eyes and let out a shaky breath. “I hate my head. Everything is so fast right now but I can’t really process any of it at all, and all my thoughts are bad and I can’t get them  _ out  _ and I hate it so much.”

Josh walks across the bed on his knees and places his hands on Tyler’s shoulders. He rubs them gently before getting Tyler to take his palms from his face. “I don’t know what to say, Ty. You’re the wordy one with all the answers. I’d fix it if I could.”

“I just hate this because I always solve problems, because that’s just--that’s how I work--I’m a problem solver and it’s all I know how to do, but I can’t  _ fix  _ myself and I try so fucking hard and then I almost get there, I’m always on the precipice of being at least  _ okay  _ but then it always gets ruined because my brain is so  _ stupid.”  _ Tyler’s crying again, he’s smacking his hands against his head, and Josh grabs his wrists.

“Quit that, Tyler. You’re gonna hurt yourself. I think maybe you should take one of the pills I have for panic attacks, and I really think we should try sleeping. You’re already kind of… iffy after earlier, and you’re working yourself up right now.” Josh moves until his chest is against Tyler’s back, and until his legs are dangling off the bed too. “I don’t know how to help.”

“I really want to fucking die or something right now.”

And now Josh holds Tyler tight and hides his face in his shoulder. Josh is trying his best not to start tearing up himself, but it’s hard. It’s really hard. “You’re not… You’re not actually considering that, are you…?”

“If you weren’t here I wouldn’t be surprised if I tried something.”

Josh feels like he can’t breathe right now. “I don’t want you feeling like this.”

“I can’t just… stop.” He wipes at his eyes, then moves Josh’s arms so he can grip his hands comfortably.

“That’s not what I meant. You don’t--you don’t deserve to be in so much pain. Not you, of all people.”

Tyler doesn’t respond to that, and they sit there silently for a few minutes until Tyler says, “I think I might be having an episode.”

“Maybe. I don’t know how the episodes work. You never have them, or I at least don’t notice.”

“Haven’t had one in a few years. Last time I had one it was for a few weeks and I think we weren’t talking because you did something that pissed me off. They happen at weird times and I usually just have to wait from them to just… pass." Tyler mumbles this and opens his eyes, which had obviously been closed, before saying, "I really want to shave all my hair off.”

“That was… an abrupt topic change.” Josh’s words sound like he’s trying to be funny, but his tone just sounds sort of sad. “Do it if you want.”

“I don’t want to cut it because of the scar. It’s so visible if my hair is short and I hate it because people always ask questions, and it’s such a mood ruiner if I’m all like, “Yeah, it’s from where they stuffed my brain back into my skull after I was bashed at my prom.” People are always awkward, and I can’t just lie about it.”

“Maybe you should just get it cut to what it was before it grew out so much, then go from there. You don’t have to tell people about how you got it anyways. It’s none of their business.”

“I feel like it was worse for you, since you watched it all happen. I don’t even remember any of it. I have a blank spot in my memory from a few weeks before when I asked you to go with me, then whenever I woke up. Aside from whenever I have nightmares, though.”

“Tyler, I really think you should take one of the pills I was talking about, then I think we should try going to bed, and if you can’t sleep, then I’ll stay up with you. No arguing. I’m not giving you room to argue. I’m an adult and I can handle myself.”

“You implying I’m not an adult?” Tyler tries to say this playfully.

“You’re every bit of an adult as I am. Even when you were seventeen I saw you as an equal, and I still do, alright? Anyways, I couldn’t exactly be in a relationship with someone I still saw as a kid. The maturity balance would be way too bad.”

“I love you so much. Christ.”

“I know you do.”

“Asshole--you’re supposed to say it back.” Tyler gently elbows him.

“I was going to,  _ Tyler.  _ I was gonna say, “I love you too, sweetheart,” but, like, I have to, y’know,  _ breathe. _ ”

“Meds then bed?”

“Yep.”

“What do you wanna watch if I can’t sleep, though?”

“Your choice, baby.”

“How about… That 70’s Show? You referenced it in the car earlier, so I wanna go watch the snow shack episode now.”

“Sounds perfect. Maybe I’ll have another wet dream about Ashton Kutcher.”

“Maybe you will. Can I have a hug and maybe a kiss…?” Tyler turns around to look at Josh, and the older man feels a little bad for him. His face is all splotchy, his nose is red, and his eyes look red enough that if Josh didn’t know any better, he’d say he was stoned.

“Yes, you may.” Josh scoots back onto the bed a little bit so Tyler can turn around fully and put all of his weight onto him as he wraps his lean arms around Josh’s torso. Before Josh goes in for a kiss, he asks a question. “Will you please,  _ please  _ tell me when you’re feeling this shitty, Tyler? I know you worry about me, but I’m learning to handle myself, and I’m not saying I don’t need your support, because trust me, I do, but I’m not the only one in this relationship. I’m not mad or anything, but if I knew how bad you were getting, then I would’ve tried doing something to help. I just--I love you so fucking much, and it kills me  that I just didn’t  _ know  _ you were feeling so terrible. I want to be able to make you feel as safe and as loved and as cared for as you make me feel, alright?”

“I’m not in a good state of mind right now, but you already make me feel like that, and I know I could go to you with my problems, but I have a thing where I just feel guilty whenever I tell anyone that I’m not doing okay because I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. Ma always used to act like I was some burden when I was living at home before she kicked me out. She thinks psychology is some shitty pseudo science, despite being a doctor, so I dunno. I’m used to  _ her  _ not caring, and it makes me afraid that no one else does either.”

“I care. I care so much. You are literally my world, and you are so precious and dear to me and I just want to love you and to take care of you and to help you and to do every single thing in my power just to make sure you’re alright and provided for. I--I literally want you to have everything. You deserve so much, and I just--I wish you didn’t feel this way, I really do.”

“I feel like we’re gonna spend the night just repeating, “I love you,” to each other. That’s what I wanna say right now, over and over until my voice gives out. Anyways, Josh, you said you’d gimme a kiss, and I want a kiss from you. You’re really good at kissing.”

“Well, get up here then.”

Tyler gets himself to where he’s eye level with Josh, and Josh is expecting Tyler to execute it, but after ten awkward seconds of staring, he finally gets the hint to lean forward and kiss Tyler gently on the lips.

“J, you can do better than that.”

Josh sticks his tongue out at Tyler, and kisses him again, and again, and again, and again, since Tyler kept asking, and since Josh didn’t have it in him to stop.

\---

Josh ends up staying up with Tyler until four in the morning watching That 70’s Show, and they manage to get through the first season. Aaand they might or might not have had a small spat over who had to get up and put in the DVD for the second season into the DVD player. (Josh ended up doing it after Tyler had given him stupid doe eyes, saying, “Please?”)

And of course Tyler ends up falling asleep during the first episode of the second season, so Josh nudges him awake long enough to get him into the bedroom so they can sleep. Or, well, so Tyler can sleep, and so Josh can sleep for another hour or two before he has to get up and go to work.

Josh is dead tired and grouchy by the time noon rolls around, and Debby’s warily knocking on the doorframe of his office, saying, “You’ve got an unscheduled visitor.”

“Deb, we’ve been over this--just tell me who. Don’t beat around the bush and take up more of my limited time than necessary.”

“Christ--someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“I stayed up with Tyler last night because he wasn’t having a good night. I’m exhausted.”

“Sad. Anyways, Bell’s here, and he does  _ not  _ look happy.”

“He found out I’m gay, so that’s why. Send him in.” Josh waves his hand dismissively, and Debby just leaves without saying anything or even responding other than with a quick nod.

Josh reckons it’s less than a minute or two later when  _ Bell  _ comes stomping into his office. He looks livid, disgusted even, and Josh just sighs quietly to himself before not shutting his laptop since it always acts a little funky whenever he opens it again, but scooting away from it in his desk chair, turning a little bit so he’s facing completely forward, his face shifting from grumpy to cold and stern.

“You should’ve  _ told me!”  _ The tall politician whispers sharply at Josh.

“About me being gay?” Josh asks calmly, a sharp contrast to Bell’s current demeanor.

“Of  _ course!  _ It could jeopardize my entire campaign!”

“Sit down.  _ Now.”  _ Josh frowns slightly and points towards a chair.

He hesitates, but slowly sits down in a chair, stiffly and awkwardly, acting as if Josh is a totally different person than he was before he found out.

“Me being gay has  _ nothing _ to do with you, and it’s none of your business.”

“The  _ hell  _ it isn’t--”

“It’s  _ not.  _ If I’m not fucking you, if you aren’t my partner, or if you aren’t a friend of mine, then it's none of your business. It’s really unprofessional for me to drag my personal life into my professional life. For example, unprofessional would be me intentionally sabotaging your campaign because I’m a biracial gay man, which I haven’t done. And I do want to formally apologize for how my partner was acting on stage with that last song. I had no part in that, but he does have a right to protest and to stand up for himself and what he believes in.”

“To avoid conflict, I'm going to accept that apology. I still think you should have told me, though. I also think you should’ve told me that you’re… that you’re with a  _ teenager.” _

“He’s twenty one, and we’ve been together for almost three and a half years. If he were a woman I personally don’t think you’d be saying that to me. In fact, you’d probably congratulate me on having such a fine piece of tail. I would also like to tell you that advertising is my way of contributing to the community that I’m from. I try bringing awareness and I try--I try perpetuating the fact that queer people  _ exist,  _ and that we’re all normal. Man to man, you  _ have got _ to understand that it’s important to do the right thing. With all that being said, I do understand if you’d like to fire me.”

“I’m not going to fire you. You have done wonders for me so far. I will see you next week at the next meeting I have with you.”

As Bell walks towards the door, Josh tells him to close it on his way out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise bitch im back  
> also follow me on tumblr  
> [creion](http://creion.tumblr.com/)  
> also my blog isnt 100% sfw but like... theres a lot of gay shit on it. i also REALLY LIKE IT when ppl hit me up w headcanons. like. goddamn. fuck it up.

The rest of February is uneventful for Tyler. Sure, his mental health declines, and sure, he starts picking up some of his old unhealthy habits (not eating properly and exercising too much to get his mind off of things), but aside from that and aside from college, everything is just so _uneventful._

Tyler's sitting in the lecture hall that Dallon usually occupies, since his tall friend had agreed to take over the gay studies class after the previous professor had quit for some unknown reason, and since Tyler needed one more elective credit when he gets a text from Josh. Josh _usually_ tries not to text him while he's in class, but Tyler figures that it might be important, so he looks up to make sure Dallon isn't watching him before opening his phone to look at the texts.

Josh sends him an address, then follows it with two more messages.

 

 **Josh:** That's the address for my office building. Come ASAP please.

 **Josh:** It's music stuff.

 **Tyler:** in class but i'll look into it before my afternoon classes

\---

"Hey, Ashley," Tyler's saying a little mischievously as he sidles on up to his friend.

She squints at him. "You want something, don't you?"

"Can I borrow your car...? I don't have any cash on me, and I need to be somewhere within the next hour," he tries with an awkward smile.

Ashley rolls her eyes and runs her hand through her short and recently bleached blonde hair before rifling through her purse, producing her keys for Tyler. "I need my car back by three."

"I got you. I need to be back by two anyways for my afternoon classes." He hugs her, and messes her hair up before sticking his tongue out at the dirty look he gets as he's walking away.

\---

The outside of Josh's office building isn't what Tyler was expecting. He was expecting something modern and sleek, but it's just a simple brick building with a silver plated plaque next to the door with the name of Josh's company, then his business number, and the address of the place below it.

Tyler walks in, and lets out a breath. The place looks a little intimidating. A pretty and young intern asks Tyler why he's there from behind the desk in the lobby of the building, and Tyler walks up to the desk before he answers. "Uh, I uh--I have a... meeting with Josh? I don't--I don't know if he made space in his schedule."

"What's your name?" She asks.

When Tyler answers with, "Tyler Joseph," she starts typing rapidly at her computer.

"You're scheduled for one thirty. He's in a meeting right now, so if you would go sit right over there," She points towards a row of chairs with her pen, "that would be _great."_

Tyler smiles politely before he's, y'know, _sitting._ The lobby is kind of... nice looking. It's tasteful and kind of homey. There's a few paintings up on the walls, which are painted a tasteful shade of red, plus a few posters and a clock.

Tyler sits there for fifteen minutes until he sees some... _old guy_ walking out from a doorway, followed by Debby, who looks more or less peeved, if anything. Once the guy is out of the door and out of earshot, she lets out an exasperated noise. "I fucking hate that guy."

Tyler snorts a little bit. "Who is he?" he asks as he gets up and follows her back through the door she came out of and down a hallway.

"Head of advertising for some sporting goods company. He's an asshole. He shows up, like, once a month to run ideas by Josh and to get feedback." She sighs and stretches a bit once she stops at a door. "He's still in the conference room, but he should be back in here within five or ten minutes." She opens the door and motions Tyler inside, then closes it, leaving Tyler alone in Josh's office.

Tyler doesn't think he's ever been in Josh's new office before. It's pretty spacious. There's a futon against one wall with a large filing cabinet on one side of it, and a bookshelf on the other side of it. There's not a whole lot on the bookshelf, aside from a few papers and a few books here and there.

Tyler looks at the pictures he notices are on the wall that the futon is against, and smiles a little bit when he realizes most of them are the Polaroids that he'd given Josh for his birthday the year previous. There's one picture of Josh and Dallon, then one where Josh is younger, like, probably eighteen or so. He looks crabby as hell in that picture, and Tyler doesn't blame him, given it's a photo of him, his father, his mother, and his brother. _Whether or not he wants to admit it, he's definitely a family man._

There's also a few pictures of Nathan, and by a few, Tyler means a lot. Okay, not a _lot,_ but there's five pictures of the now four year old.

One of them Tyler assumes is from the night Nate was born, and Tyler really, _really_ can't help but to 'aww' quietly at the look on Josh's face. His eyes are dilated and red and Tyler figures he was stoned, but he still looks so fond and at peace at least for that moment, and it's just adorable. There's another one where Josh is playing with blocks with him, and Tyler thinks the picture was from around the time Nate turned two. Josh is grinning in the picture at Nathan, who had built a sloppy pyramid out of the blocks.

Another one is from pride in 2001 when Debby had Josh watch Nathan while she and Jenna were off having their bits of fun. Tyler's in that picture too, looking at his phone, and Josh is just sitting there in his sunglasses, very obviously frowning at nothing in particular with Nathan, presumably, cooing at something.

Tyler's about to mentally wax poetic about the last picture of Josh and Nathan, but the door to the office is opening, and Tyler's being drawn out of his thoughts by a quick peck to one of his cheeks. He turns and watches as Josh sits down at his desk, then Tyler takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of it. "Why'd you have me come here ASAP?"

"Two things, both relating to your music." Josh scoots back in his desk chair, and opens one of the drawers on the desk, rummaging around in it for a moment before producing a CD, and sliding it towards Tyler. "How does that cover look? I had the two people from my very, _very_ small art department listen to it, and they both said a simple cover would work best. You get the last word in it, but, personally, I think this is the one."

It's black with the title of the album in capital letters, then Tyler's name in smaller font and also in capital letters below it. Tyler opens the case, and flips through the small booklet that he'd already finished a few months ago, filled out with some information. The last thing he examines is the CD itself, which is black with one, small, tiny little white skull on it. "I think this cover is the one."

Josh takes the CD back. "Awesome. I'll look into getting more copies made, then we can start talking about a release date. I think later this year would be a good idea."

"What's the other thing?" Tyler leans back in the chair now, crossing his fingers over one of his knees.

"I got an email from a buddy of mine, asking me if I had any contacts that would be interested in standing in for the opening act for a popular band. You're my only client that's a musician, at the moment, so _naturally_ I suggested you for the job, and sent a few of your songs to my buddy. Point is, the band _really_ likes your stuff."

"Is there a catch?" Tyler's trying not to let his excitement show in his voice as he's leaning forward, eyes a little wide.

"Kind of. It's an arena show. A sold out arena show. If you're alright with being sent off to New York to perform in front of ten thousand people, then you're in luck. How do you feel about it?"

Tyler winces a little bit. "The biggest crowd I've performed in front of is maybe a few hundred. Ten thousand is... it's something. Hm." He bites his lip. "Would I get any money out of it?"

"A couple grand. Not a whole lot, but it's enough to cover plane tickets and hotel costs. It'd be _really_ good publicity though, especially since you're planning on releasing this baby," Josh waves the CD around a little bit, "this year. You can keep whatever money you get out of it, though. I'll--I'll cover your hotel and plane costs."

"Figured you would."

Josh nods. "Just in case you need more convincing, that's _ten thousand people_ who are forced to listen to your set, and your music is pretty similar to the main band's music, so there's most likely a pretty good chance that people are going to _love_ your shit."

"I'll do it. Have I ever told you how amazing you are?"

"You could stand to mention it more."

\---

Josh is at work by seven the following Monday, leaving Tyler alone in the apartment as he packs his suitcase. He put off packing his things until the very last minute, just as he usually does.

"I still don't get why I'm the one who has to bring you to New York," Dallon's mumbling through a yawn as he watches his younger friend pack his suitcase.

"Because. Brendon told me no, you were one of my professors for a while, and you're Josh's best friend. Also, you're not busy, and you're good at driving."

"Wait, I'm his best friend?" Tyler glances up, and snorts at the gobsmacked look on Dallon's face.

"He told me himself. Not like he's been talking to Brendon anyways. Though, I reserve the _best_ best friend place because he loves me." Tyler uses his best shit-eating face as he rubs the last sentence in Dallon's face.

Dallon shakes his head.

"Anyways, to finish answering your question, my driver's license expired so I can't drive myself, plus I don't have a car anyways, and I don't have the confidence to navigate New York on my own."

"Ask Josh to help you buy a car or something." Dallon shrugs.

"You make it sound so simple. If I asked him to help me buy a car, he'd probably buy a fucking sports car or something insanely expensive like that. I, personally, am completely fine with an economy compact. _Also,_ I rarely ask him for stuff, and I'd feel terrible if he actually bought me a freaking car."

"You could ask about a Cadillac. They're expensive, but not that flashy, and I mean, I've always wanted a Cadillac, so I could, like, vicariously live through you."

"It'd look weird if a twenty one year old was driving a Cadillac."

"Seriously? You're a label queen, Tyler. Your outfit right now is worth at least half of what I make in a year. Like, your sweater? Pretty sure that Yves. Your jeans? H&M, and they don't look cheap. Don't even get me started on your Prada shoes. You dress like a pretentious hipster who has way too much money. Oh, _also?_ That one jacket you always wear? Wouldn't be surprised if _that's_ a few grand. You already look like hot shit, so a Cadillac doesn't seem like it'd be too extreme."

Tyler squints at him. "Fine, alright. Uncle. I give. You have a point. I let Josh take me shopping sometimes, and I enjoy it. Also, can you, like, eat my fucking ass? You _literally_ save your money so you can go shopping for expensive shit once a year. Don't think I can't tell where your freaking wool coat comes from, Mister Prada."

"Hey, you know what? I could very well be dead in the next few years, and I busted my ass on getting a Master's. I have a right to spoil myself once in a while."

"A master's in what? _Music?"_ Tyler's zipping up his suitcase by now, and sliding it across the bed, motioning for Dallon to grab it and... do something with it.

"Economics, actually," He answers with a grunt as he's hauling Tyler's suitcase off of the bed.

"Seriously? Why the fuck are you teaching music history?"

"I contemplated moving to New York to be a stockbroker, but... it was a little far fetched. Never had the guts, so I figured teaching music history at an art school was... more realistic."

Tyler shakes his head, and makes sure he has his wallet and keys, plus his phone, before he's leading the way out of his bedroom. Dallon follows, wheeling his suitcase, wondering how Tyler just managed to get him to carry his freaking suitcase for him.

"You don't get anywhere in life if you don't take risks, Dallon," Tyler's saying as soon as they're in the elevator.

"I know, but I was kind of sick around the time I got my degree, and I don't think moving would've worked out. I'm at least oddly knowledgeable in both the cultural relevance of Green Day and how stocks work."

"Mm... Still. I mean, it's not like I have some huge, successful career or anything, but I could've just as easily gone to Harvard and gotten a degree in law and been some successful lawyer, rather than getting up at the crack of fucking dawn to go to New York to open for Judah and the Lion, which, by the way, is making me extremely happy. Being a lawyer would fucking suck."

"Fair enough."

\---

"You know what I just remembered?" Tyler pipes up about twenty minutes into the eight hour car drive from Columbus to New York.

"Hm?" Dallon doesn't seem overly interested, but it's early, and he's always, like, exhausted, so Tyler doesn't say anything.

"Brendon was dating a stockbroker around the time I met Josh, and you have a master's in economics."

"Maybe he has a subconscious kink for guys who know a lot about economics. Honestly, if I was a stockbroker, a good one, I'd spoil him rotten. He always comes home all exhausted and sometimes without anything to show for it. Man, I'd buy him the world if I could."

"I can't believe you just... I mean, I can't imagine being in love with _Brendon._ How do you put up with him?"

Dallon shrugs, and turns the radio down, figuring they're about to have, like, a conversation that requires more than minimal mental effort. "I'll be the first to say that he's an asshole, like, even I'll admit that, and I _know_ he runs his mouth, but, to put it into perspective, I love him like you love Josh."

"I suppose people could ask me why the hell I love Josh. Hell, people already do."

Dallon snorts softly. "I hate to sound like some sort of romance movie, but... Brendon saved me, Tyler. I don't know from what, but he's the first person in a _long_ time who's ever given me the light of day. Like, before I got infected, the last person who cared about me in any capacity, even if it wasn't much, was the girl who got me into drugs. Brendon is... he's something. He's an angel in my eyes. Man, I didn't even know how bad of a place I was in until I met him. Okay--meeting him was like seeing the light at the end of the cave. Meeting him was like me finally be able to say, "I'm home.""

"You sound like Josh when he talks about me. It's not like he's waxing poetic about me, but whenever he's, like... in a _mood,_ he says stuff like that to me."

"Mood?"

"Yeah. Most times he's just... He's not a super affectionate person, but sometimes he gets in these really affectionate moods, and he says all these romantic things."

"Ah." Dallon nods and smiles a little bit, understanding. "Honestly, I don't think I've met anyone who loves someone as much as Josh loves you. I only dropped into, like, your group's lives right near the tail end of his dick phase, or so Pete tells me, but from what I've seen, you've done a lot of good for him."

"Everyone always tells me that _I'm_ the one who's the miracle worker in our relationship, but he's done a lot for me as well, y'know? I mean, not very many people are willing to sit up with me until four in the morning because I had a panic attack or a nightmare. Honestly, if I wasn't with Josh, I'd probably be dead right now. Did anyone ever tell you I got bashed at my senior prom?"

"Brendon told me, and Josh told me in _detail_ , yeah."

"Yeah. I mean, Josh _literally_ saved my life that night, because if he wasn't there, I would've died. If anything had happened any differently, I could have brain damage, or, worst case scenario, I could've been a vegetable. Aside from that, I _definitely_ wasn't in a great place mentally. Probably would've killed myself if Josh wasn't there. I don't really want to get into the fine details of it, because I'm going to end up crying or something, but whenever I've needed someone, and I mean _actually_ needed someone, Josh has been there. A bunch of his friends, like, Pete, Patrick, Brendon, even Debby and Jenna--all of them have told me at one point or another not to get attached to Josh, not to fall for him, blah blah _blah,_ because he's such an emotionless asshole, because he's going to break my heart, because he's going to cheat on me and leave me out to dry, but... He hasn't. In _fact,_ I'm the one who's fucked up as far as the rules of our relationship go."

"He told me about the whole... _Min_ debacle at some point."

"Yeah. Anyways, like... We both know he's not emotionless, and we both know he's actually a nice person when it comes down to it."

"All of your guys' friends only knew him when he was using. People are different when they're using. I was really aggressive and just... not a good person when I was using, back in the late eighties, early nineties."

"I don't know how much about himself he's told you, so, like, don't repeat a word of whatever I'm about to say to him or anyone else, but, like, on top of addiction, he has a lot of mental health problems. From what he's told me, his dad--his dad was a piece of shit. Beat him and all that, so, for one thing, he's an abuse victim. He's also a sexual assault victim, and I think he either said that it was me and his therapist he told, or me, his therapist, and you, but that's also a thing. No one ever took the time to ask him if he was alright, or to consider that, hey, maybe there was more going on with him rather than just assuming he's an asshole. Josh's first reaction to a lot of things is to snap, or to close himself off. He doesn't know any better, or didn't. He's working on it, though."

Dallon nods, assuring Tyler he's listening.

"Also, off topic, I guess, but I try thinking of Brendon, like... I try considering that he probably has more shit going on rather than assuming that _he's_ an asshole."

"Oh, no, you're right--he's an asshole, but you're also right about him having stuff going on too. He's been seeing a therapist about anger issues, and he's been trying to stop using. I don't know if he'll stop drinking, or smoking weed, but he's been trying to quit using, like... everything else. Despite being a _hardened_ heroin addict, I don't know a lot about drugs."

"I think Josh told me that Brendon tended to stick to poppers, ecstasy, and cocaine, similar to himself. Not sure about the cocaine part, but I'm definitely sure about the poppers and ecstasy part. I can give him kudos for trying to quit. Still don't _like_ him, but y'know." Tyler shrugs.

"I get that, I guess. Honestly, I kind of just... don't care what he does as long as he's not fucking around with heroin or meth."

"Oh, fuck, dude--have you ever tried meth? That shit's fucking crazy." Tyler puffs his cheeks out, and props his feet up on the dashboard.

"Not intentionally. When I got tested for HIV, there were traces of crystal meth in my blood. I mean, I fucked with heroin, but I didn't ever touch meth, at least not on purpose. I'm assuming you tried it?"

"At a party a few years ago. I had a really bad trip, and ended up going to Josh's apartment. We weren't--we weren't talking when it happened, probably had a fight or something, but he's always told me that his apartment is a safe space, especially if I have a bad trip, or if I just need somewhere to go. Said something about him not having a safe space when he was experimenting, and that it hadn't worked out for him a lot of the time, but that he wanted me to have one."

"Josh is a good guy, honestly."

"I'm glad _you're_ his best friend. I mean, he needs someone who is not only just about his age, but who gets the shit he goes through on a personal level. I mean, I get some of the drugs and alcohol shit, but not as much as you do. I mean, he talks to you about drug stuff, and he talks to me about the depression and anxiety stuff."

"He comes to me for advice about you a lot, honestly. Like, similar to my conversations with you, my conversations with him end up with him talking about you, like, non stop, except instead of getting defensive, he tends to ask me for advice."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. He's so far up your ass that he could chew your food for you. You make him _so_ nervous, and whenever he does something especially nice for you out of nowhere, I usually have a hand in it. He told me he's trying to learn how to be romantic, and how to be a good boyfriend, and I, personally, have plenty of experience in both of those things."

"Well, you're doing a good job at teaching him, then."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall MIGHT get two chapters today just depends on how much i can write but here we GOOOOOOOOOO

Between roadwork, gas stations, and rest stops, the eight hour car ride from Columbus to New York ends up being more like eleven hours. Of course, along with the roadwork, and the gas stations and rest stops, you also have to consider the fact that both of them are living, breathing humans, and need sustenance, so meal breaks on top of all of that definitely extended the road trip just a little bit. Just the tiniest bit.

Tyler spends most of his time either sleeping or chatting with Dallon, and there are a few times that either of them sing along to whichever song is on the radio. Tyler decides that, for road trips, Dallon is definitely the best person go with. Josh gets grumpy within an hour into car rides, and Brendon mostly acts like Tyler doesn't exist, so, of course, the favorite is obvious.

Near the end of the road trip, Tyler is exhausted, and Tyler's the kind of guy who gets emotional whenever he's exhausted, and what this means is that he opens up to Dallon.  _ Though, I did get my antidepressant changed a few weeks ago... Maybe that has to do with the sudden weepiness.  _ "I really miss my brother."

"Go see him, then," Dallon supplies, totally unhelpfully. He, himself, is tired, and isn't really the best as keeping up conversation.

"I would, but my mother would never let me. When she left my dad, she took my brother with her, and that was, like, almost four years ago. I haven't seen him since then. Like, he was eight when she left, and now he should be eleven or twelve. It's weird."

"Have you tried actually talking to your mother?"

Tyler sighs. "A few times. She won't really even acknowledge my existence, though, and it's like--she's super abusive, and I worry about my little brother a lot, but I can't do anything about it, and it  _ kills me,  _ y'know? It's my job to protect my bro. Also, Dad's been trying to get custody of him, but judges are just... They  _ always  _ favor the mother in most situations, and my mom is a fucking  _ pro  _ at playing the victim. I don't even know why I'm telling you about this. I just--I thought of it."

"It's cool, man. Don't worry. I mean, I'm all ears if you ever need to talk about stuff like that. You were also one of my students for a hot minute, so I do take a special interest in you anyways. If I were you, I'd ask your mom if you could see him. Maybe take him out for a day or something. Get ice cream, or something that kids like, maybe buy him a few things, and, like... yeah. Honestly, it's fucked up if she's keeping you from your  _ brother.  _ I don't have any siblings, so I don't really get the whole bond thing, but I can imagine that it hurts."

"It does. It really,  _ really  _ does."

\---

"Jesus Christ," Dallon mutters under his breath as they're walking into a hotel. "Are you  _ sure  _ this is the place Josh recommended?"

Tyler pulls out his wallet, and checks the folded up piece of notebook paper with the address written down on it. "Pretty sure, yeah. He's been on a lot of business trips, and says that this is the place he usually stays at, unless there's no rooms available."

"It'd be cheaper for him to just rent a condo."

Tyler shrugs, and walks up to the desk, with Dallon tailing him pretty closely. When the receptionist asks, "Two queens?" Tyler sighs a little bit, and wraps an arm around Dallon's shoulder, before replying with, "One king."

It takes a second for Dallon to get what Tyler meant before he's batting his arm away, saying, "Get off of me. Two queens."

\---

"Who is this band that you're supposed to be opening for anyways?" Dallon asks.

Tyler looks up from his homework to glance at him. "Judah and the Lion. They're this, like... Semi-religious, semi- _ not  _ religious, folky hip-hoppy band. They're kind of hot shit right now, dude. Like, if I turned on MTV right now, within an hour we'd probably see one of their music videos. I haven't met anyone from the band yet, but, from what I hear, they're all super nice. The lead vocalist, Judah, is pretty cute. Of course, he's straight and married, and he's not the kind of guy I'd  _ fuck,  _ but he's cute. That's about the extent of my knowledge."

"Religious?" Dallon grimaces a little bit.

"What of it? My music has religious undertones. Doesn't make it bad."

"You're not religious though."

"Where'd you hear  _ that?"  _ Tyler snorts. "I'm pretty religious. I mean, I have a bit of a spotty relationship with my religion, and I still have shit to work through, but at the very least I can say I'm not an atheist." He yawns before continuing. "Also, it's not like they're a Christian band. It's like if you said I was an emo artist like Avril Lavigne or something. Not all of her songs are angsty teenager shit, and not all of my songs are about my mental health problems."

"You sing about losing faith and questioning your faith. You make it sound like they're just some fun, god loving hippie band."

Tyler rolls his eyes. "Hand me my laptop." He waves towards the bag that he keeps his laptop in when he's not at home, and Dallon scoots (or rolls, since he's in a desk chair) from the desk in their hotel room towards where the bag is, leaning against the wall. He then rolls over to where Tyler's laying on his stomach on one of the beds, and hands him his laptop.

Tyler turns his laptop on, and has to give it about ten minutes before it's safe to open anything without risking the damn thing freezing up on him. He opens iTunes, then roots around until he finds an album from Judah and the Lion. He clicks on it, then tells Dallon to take his laptop. "Listen to that. You're the worst kind of person. You, like, make assumptions about bands and artists without listening to them."

"You do have to consider that my music tastes don't stem past the nineteenth century, with the exception of Foreigner, Electric Light Orchestra, and Queen."

“Fair enough.”

—-

Tyler doesn’t get genuinely intimidated by very many people, at least on a good day, but he can honest to god say that Judah Akers is, literally, the most intimidating person he’s ever met. The first thing the man does upon seeing Tyler the day they’re supposed to meet to make sure they get along is walk up to Tyler,  _ manually  _ turn him around, then he looks at the label of Tyler’s jacket.

“So, you’re a budding musician from Ohio, but you’re wearing a fifteen hundred dollar jacket…?”

“Well,” Tyler starts, as he turns around. He’s learned that when it comes to people who are intimidating, holding his ground is the way to go. “I don’t have an excuse that doesn’t make me sound like a spoiled brat, so I’m holding my tongue.”

“Rich parents?” Judah quirks a brow, and heads towards a table to grab a bottle of water. He throws it towards Tyler, and Tyler catches it perfectly, mentally thanking God for his basketball phase.

“My partner works in advertising, and I have one of his credit cards. I had to hit up Barney’s. Also, you’re not one to talk. I can probably name every brand you’re wearing right now. Though… that probably says more about me than it does about you.”

“True.  _ So,  _ my manager didn’t tell me much about you,” He starts. Tyler stands there awkwardly as he watches him walk towards a couch, before plopping down on it. Tyler ends up sitting on the floor in front of him. “How old are you?”

“Twenty one. I turn twenty two in December.”

“Twenty one, and your boyfriend is well off enough to afford a fifteen hundred dollar jacket for you?”

“He has a career that he busted his ass for. If he chooses to spend his money on me, then that’s his business. Not my place to complain. How old are you?”

“Twenty six. I turn twenty seven in September.”

Tyler can’t tell if he’s being mimicked, so he decides not to question it. “Uh… Cool, I guess.”

“How’d you get into music?”

Tyler’s been asked this plenty of times, and he sort of wants to roll his eyes, but he refrains. “When I was in grade school, our choir class had this thing where we played the recorder, and a bunch of other small instruments, so I’ve pretty much been obsessed since then. Learned how to play a bunch of instruments.”

“No, no. I meant as a career choice. No one  _ really  _ cares about how you started playing music. Tell me all your dark secrets, man.”

Tyler huffs a little bit. “I dunno. When I was a sophomore in high school, I got a computer, and I got some recording equipment the same year. I already had a bunch of instruments, so it was only a matter of time before I put a song together. I’ve just been doing that since then, and it’s starting to build up, I guess. I, uh… have an album that I’m going to work on releasing later this year. My partner--he’s in advertising, and he’s worked with musicians before, so he’s basically my manager for the time being. It’s not a permanent thing, but he knows people, and knows how to promote things, so until I can get signed to a label, I’m sticking with him. I’m just trying to play my cards right.”

“Don’t go with Sony,” he says immediately. “Sony sucks. As soon as our contract with them is up, we’re getting the hell out of dodge.  _ I  _ jumped at the first chance I got at a record deal, and I regret it.”

“I’ve had a few opportunities, but nothing has felt right so far. One of the first labels that tried approaching me… Basically, I had to go back into the closet if I wanted them to sign me, which is bullshit, like—” Tyler tips his head down, and parts his hair, “--do you see that scar?”

“It’d be hard to miss, yeah.”

Tyler looks back up at him. “I almost died for being gay. Someone hit me in the head with a baseball bat, and it almost killed me. I was literally in a coma for a little over two weeks. So, we have that, and before that, my mom kicked me out. Like, I’ve been through  _ so much shit  _ for being gay, yet they wanted me to go back into the closet. I basically said, “Fuck no,” then walked right back out of that conference room.”

“Good for you. Screw whoever that was.”

“Yeah. How about you? How’d you get into music?”

“As far as interviewers, my wife, and my parents are concerned, me and some of my buddies thought it’d be a good idea to start a band. In reality, we were all  _ super  _ stoned, and I picked up my guitar and started playing it, right? I was just screwing around, but someone joined in with a beat, like, I think it was pencils on tupperware or something, and it just  _ happened.  _ Later when we weren’t stoned, we actually got proper equipment, and just went for it.”

“That’s… pretty awesome, honestly. I had to quit smoking weed for a few reasons, but some of the songs I’m most proud of I wrote while I was stoned. My favorite thing to do would be to get some sativa,  _ light up,  _ then  _ write.  _ Shit fucks with the meds I take, though, and my partner has drug problems, so, y’know, I quit, but,  _ man…”  _ Tyler sighs wistfully. “I mean, it’s for the best. I should probably try writing more when I’m  _ not  _ stoned. It’s healthier.”

“Fair enough.”

—-

Tyler makes a friend out of Judah Akers, and two days later, he’s set to  _ perform.  _ He’s set to perform in front of  _ ten thousand people.  _ He did alright during sound check earlier that day, but when he’s getting his cue, someone telling him that he has five minutes before he has to be out there, he’s freaking out.

Okay, not freaking out as in he’s having a panic attack or something, but it’s more like he’s so excited and nervous at the same time that he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Tyler has a specific outfit he wears whenever he’s performing in front of crowds. He tries to translate his personality through his clothes, and through his music. Almost every time he’s in front of a crowd, he’s in a black, long sleeved button up, untucked, of course, with  _ all  _ of the buttons buttoned, black, skin tight pants (leather or some other material--it doesn’t matter to him), and sensible black shoes. So, yes, he wears all black, and, yes, he’s almost always  _ drenched  _ by the time he’s done, but that’s how he works. That’s his  _ thing. _

So, there’s that. He looks all dark and dramatic.

And now, here he is, being sneaky about being on stage. For once, he has the resources he needs to perform the way he wants to, and he’s able to get on stage without being noticed. He can barely see, but it’s enough to where he knows where to place his fingers on his keyboard.

He takes a deep breath, positions his hands properly, and as soon as he’s hearing the signal for  _ it’s go time,  _ basically, through his earpiece, he presses his fingers down.


	12. Chapter 12

On Friday evenings, Josh has a specific routine.

Before meeting Tyler, and before getting clean, he would come home from work, take a shower, change his outfit, then head out for the night. Post meeting Tyler, and post getting clean, he likes to come home, shower, put on something comfortable, make himself a meal (if Tyler isn’t there) and then he likes to park his ass in front of his TV so he can watch whatever show is on that he finds interesting.

Josh is in the middle of the new routine, in the middle of cooking some pork fried rice. There’s a little too much, so he figures there will definitely be leftovers, but that’s alright. Tyler won’t be back until Monday anyways. 

He’s used to people walking into his apartment. At the moment, so long as it’s Tyler, Dallon, Patrick, Debby, or Jenna, then he’s fine. He’s used to them. (Also, like, Tyler  _ lives  _ there anyways, but still. His point remains the same.) He hears his apartment door open, and when he hears heels on hardwood, he figures it’s either Debby or Jenna, so he doesn’t do anything. He’s also, like, in the middle of tossing bits of pork into a pan, so he doesn’t have the time to look up.

He hears the someone sitting in one of his bar stools, and he’s about to ask which one of the  _ lesbians  _ it is, but before he can, a  _ different  _ woman’s voice is saying, “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been here.”

Josh jumps and whirls around, asking, “What the  _ fuck  _ are  _ you  _ doing here? Tyler’s not even here,” as soon as he makes eye contact with Ashley.

“I know he’s not. That’s why I’m here.”

“That’s why you  _ shouldn’t  _ be here,” he mutters as he frowns and turns back around. He hasn’t interacted with Ashley much, aside from the one time she helped keep him calm after Tyler, like, almost died three years ago. It’s enough interaction to where he doesn’t have it in him to kick her out.

“Are you busy tomorrow?”

“I’ll probably be busy sleeping in until about noon or so. Why?”

“Because we’re going to New York. I scored some general admission tickets for that concert Tyler’s going to be opening for from some scalpers, so either you’re paying me three hundred bucks,  _ or,  _ you’re going with me. Like, you aren’t doing anything, and this is super big for him,  _ and  _ super important.”

“Does he know you’re going?” Josh asks as he turns the heat down on his stove.

“Nope. I figured we wouldn’t tell him, then, like, surprise him or something. I dunno. I just bought the tickets. You’re the one who set all of this up, so I figured you might have a better idea on how to surprise him.”

“I could probably flash a few Benjamins and work my way behind the venue or something. Who knows.” He shrugs. “He’s going to see me, though. I stick out like a sore thumb in situations like that.”

“Dude, that venue holds over ten thousand people. He isn’t going to  _ see  _ you.”

“I look like someone colored on my hair with a pink Sharpie highlighter, and the most casual outfit I own is a button-up and a pair of black jeans.”

“Then let me dye your hair, and then let me take you to a mall so you can buy an outfit to  _ fit in  _ with the GA crowd.”

“Depends on what color, and also it’s, like…” Josh looks at the clock on his stove before continuing. “It’s seven in the evening. By the time we got anywhere, it’d be closed.”

Ashley rolls her eyes even though Josh isn’t looking at her. “Do you own any t-shirts  _ at all?  _ Besides the one you’re wearing, of course.”

“I own some, but I never wear them.”

“Do you have any that you don’t particularly care about? I’m sure I could give you the punk makeover of your dreams.”

“I am perfectly fine with looking like an accountant.”

“An accountant with highlighter pink hair.”

“When do you want to dye my hair?”

“Tonight.”

“Am I allowed to eat?”

“No. You cannot eat. That’s illegal and I just cannot allow it.”

“Are you where Tyler gets his sarcasm from?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

—-

_ “So,”  _ Ashley starts as she’s working red dye into Josh’s hair, after lightening it, of course. “Tell me about your hopes and dreams.” She’s trying to start a conversation, mostly since Josh is quiet, and doesn’t talk a whole lot. (Unless he’s around Tyler, of course.)

Josh glances to his left, since that’s around where she’s standing. “I’m thirty two. I’ve already achieved my hopes and dreams.”

“You mean to tell me that, at thirty two, you have no hopes or dreams?”

“I’m content with what I have. I have a nice job, a healthy relationship with someone who I--who I love more than anything, a nice apartment, and I’ve been, like, making some serious headway when it comes to my mental health issues. At the moment, I like things the way they are. When that changes, I’m sure I’ll do something about it.” Josh feels as if he’s defending himself for some reason. “How much about me does Tyler tell you?”

“Not much. All I know about you is that you were apparently a drug addict, but that you don’t do that shit anymore, that you have a kid and that one of the lesbians is pregnant with twins, and that you had cancer at some point. That’s about all I know about you. He used to give me full on TMI about his and yours sex life, but that quit happening within six months of him meeting you. He only tells me stuff about you if it’s directly affecting him, and if it’s either especially bad or especially good. If you have any deep, dark secrets, then he’s keeping them.”

Josh grunts a little bit, and doesn’t say anything else, because, honestly, he doesn’t have anything else to say anyways. 

“Why’d you start dying your hair? I remember you used to always look so vanilla whenever I’d see you around Tyler.”

“I had cancer and my life was a mess so, essentially, I said, “Fuck it,” and dyed my hair. It was always something I’d wanted to do, but I couldn’t do it at my old job. Hell, my old boss gave me shit if I let my beard grow out for more than a week.”

“Tyler did say something about you having a beard when he met you.”

“He’s like… weirdly obsessed with my facial hair,” Josh mumbles, adjusting his position, since his back was getting a little sore. “He made dinner one time, and we were on the couch watching the news or something stupid like that while we ate, and I swear to god--at least every few minutes he’d reach over, put his hand on my beard, then  _ rub.  _ He also asks me to go down on him whenever my beard is grown out too.”

“I should ask my boyfriend to do that the next time he lets  _ his  _ beard grow out. You’d figure there’d be a lot of chafing.” 

“Oh, a little bit.” Josh shrugs. “It’s worse if it’s stubble. If it’s stubble, then there’s definitely some chafing, but otherwise, not really.”

“You’d know?”

“Have you met Tyler?”

“I’ve known him since we were five.”

“He likes eating ass.”

Ashley snorts. “Gross.”

“It’s not gross if you’re into it. I could argue and say that girls are gross. You’re his friend that he said is bi, right?”

“That’d be me, yes. You have a point. Have you ever been with a girl?”

“I lied about wanting to save myself for marriage the one time I had an opportunity.”

Ashley starts cackling. By this point, she’s just  _ barely  _ finished putting dye into Josh’s hair. “That’s a good excuse. I haven’t slept with any girls before. I want to, but I have a boyfriend anyways.” Josh sees her shrug as she’s walking around him to leave the room. She comes back with a plastic hair cap that she gently places over his head. “I don’t have any black dye, so you’re going to have to sit tight if you want the sides of your head dyed like usual.”

“It’s alright. My hair’s dark brown anyways.” Josh shrugs. He gets up, and follows her as she’s heading towards her kitchen to set a timer so they know when to wash Josh’s hair out. After that, he’s following her towards her bedroom after she mutters something about wanting him to help her pick out a wig. He sits Indian style on her bed, and asks, “Why do you own so many wigs?”

“Because. Sometimes I like looking like a butch lesbian, but sometimes I’m in the mood to look, like… cool. My hair is also hard to manage unless I want to blow a bunch of money to have it professionally straightened, and that’s if I let it grow out more than six inches.”

“Ah.”

“It’s also just fun to dress up sometimes.”

Josh watches as she sits on the floor in front of a box. She starts pulling out, y’know, wigs, and throwing them in Josh’s direction, telling him to lay them on the bed. Josh kind of likes how she doesn’t act awkward around him, even though they don’t know each other that well. “Fair enough. I, uh, don’t dress up very often. When I used to go to clubs and bars, I’d wear jeans and t-shirts, but that’s about it. Mostly I just wear the suits I wear to work, then pajamas once I’m home. Once in a great while I steal this one specific sweater Tyler has. It’s way too big for either of us, but it’s warm, and I get cold easily, so it works.”

“When we were in high school, I would always steal his jackets. My parents aren’t, like, rich or anything. Like, sometimes we couldn’t even afford to keep the four of us fed, so borrowing Tyler’s jackets when I needed to was necessary. It’s not as if he wasn’t willing, of course.”

“He’s a good person. He bends over backwards for the people he loves. Hell, he’d probably give you a kidney if you asked.”

“That’s true. Anyways.” She’s standing up from the floor now, and stepping over towards her bed. There’s four wigs laid out, and immediately she’s picking out two of them that are an absolute  _ no.  _ The first one ends up being the one she chooses, but she still goes through the process of putting it on, and running her fingers through it, getting some of the knots out. “How about this one?”

It’s shoulder length, and teal, one of Josh’s favorite colors. “It looks pretty. I, personally, would go with that one, but it’s up to you, I guess.”

“Awesome. Anyways, aside from that, I already know what I’m wearing.  _ Now,  _ we gotta worry about you. Where’s the shirt I told you to grab?”

“On your kitchen table. So are the jeans.”

“Alright. C’mon.” She’s so  _ fast  _ and it’s kinda throwing Josh off a bit. He follows her, of course.

Josh is careful about peeling his sweatshirt off, making sure not to get any red hair dye on it.

Ashley doesn’t even try hiding the fact that she checks him out. “Huh. No wonder he likes you.”

Josh rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Just saying. Put the shirt on.”

Josh,  _ of course,  _ listens.

“Do I have permission to cut the sleeves off of this shirt?”

“Go for it. I never wear it anyways.”

—-

Josh pays a group of kids a hundred bucks each to let him and Ashley cut in line. He knows that cutting in line at concerts is a douchey thing to do, like, super douchey, but he wants to be at least somewhat close to the front of the crowd.

While they’re waiting in line, Ashley says, “I should bring you to all concerts that I go to. Like, I mean--look at our spot. Usually I’d have to camp out for a spot like this.” She’s smiling and she’s excited. It’s endearing in a way.

“The only reason I’m here is to see Tyler. I hate concerts.”

“They’re so fun though.”

“Yeah, but we’re in New York, it’s fucking  _ freezing,  _ and there’s so many goddamn people here.” Josh mutters this, glaring at nothing, and blinking a little bit, since Ashley managed to talk him into wearing red face paint around his eyes. She said something about it looking  _ cool  _ and  _ punk,  _ so he went with it. 

“That’s true. Anyways, once the doors open, we need to haul ass so we don’t get stuck in the back of the crowd, alright?”

“Alright, I guess.”

—-

When the lights are cut, Josh hears Ashley saying, “What the hell do you think he’s doing?” into his ear. 

Josh shrugs, and leans back over to say, “No fucking clue. I’ve learned it’s best not to question him. He knows what he’s doing, though.”

After that, Josh is standing up straight again. They’re both, literally, front and center, and as soon as Josh hears the sounds of  _ piano,  _ his pulse starts picking up. He’s excited. Really excited. The lights are still out, and the crowd is going nuts, probably from being excited, or some bullshit like that.

Josh finds himself grinning a grin that he can’t help when the lights are back on, and when Tyler starts  _ singing.  _ Ashley grabs his arm and grins wildly. They’re both proud of him, the boyfriend and the best friend.

Tyler keeps his eyes glued to his hands as he sings, occasionally looking up and out into the crowd. Josh is sort of  _ waiting  _ until Tyler notices him because, like, he’s literally within ten feet of him.

—-

Tyler does notice Josh eventually, but it’s near the end of his set. As soon as he sees Josh, he’s hopping off of the stage, batting a few security guards away as he’s leaning over the barricade to wrap his arms around Josh’s shoulders real quick.

Josh hugs him back, and Tyler pecks Ashley on the cheek super quick before he’s climbing back onto the stage. He doesn't acknowledge what just happened, opting to just finish his set. 

He sings the best he has all night, at least in his opinion, after noticing Josh and Ashley. He’s over the fucking moon to say the least. He gets the crowd riled up, making sure they’re excited for Judah and the Lion, which is sort of what he was meant to do in the first place. 

—-

“I’m nervous to see him for some reason,” Josh admits quietly while he and Ashley wait for Tyler to make an appearance. They’re sitting on the ground next to Dallon’s car, which Josh managed to find in the enormous fucking parking lot of the arena.

“You’ve been with him for almost four years, dude. I’d figure you’d be over the nervous thing by now.”

“Yeah, but it’s like… I’m really proud of him, and I’ve been excited all night so my anxiety is hitting me and all that.” Josh shrugs. “It’s like I can’t get excited or upset without my body being like, ‘Hey, it’s time for you to start freaking out.’”

“Definitely feel you there,” She mutters before she’s digging through her purse and producing a pack of cigarettes. She pulls one out, and holds it between two perfectly manicured fingers, before holding the pack over to Josh, saying, “Want one?”

He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s anxious, and when he’s anxious, he’s basically putty and does whatever anyone tells him, and can’t bring himself to say no, in fear of upsetting someone else, or hurting someone’s feelings, meaning he finds himself saying, “Sure,” and taking one out of the pack. 

Usually when Josh is  _ overly  _ anxious, Tyler’s there to talk him down, or to at least walk him through taking care of it himself. Of course, though, Josh is having a  _ day,  _ his phone is dead, and Tyler isn’t nearby, nor did he remember to bring his prescription of Vistaril with him. He reasons with himself--it’s just a cigarette, right? Just  _ one  _ can’t him.

Once the cigarette between his fingers is lit, and after he takes a drag, he’s coughing. He hasn’t touched a cigarette in almost two years. “Why the fuck did I ever smoke these? They taste like shit and I can’t even fuckin’ breathe.”

“It’s just a habit for me. Like… I dunno how to explain it, but you probably get it.”

“Yeah. Started smoking when I was a sophomore in high school, I think. For  _ me,  _ at first, it was some sort of rebellion thing, but eventually it became a habit and if I went without cigarettes for more than a certain period of time, I’d start craving them. Eventually I ended up mixing in some beer and cocaine, not to mention other club drugs, into the mix after I turned eighteen. They were sort of my gateway, now that I think about it.”

“Huh. I started smoking when I was fourteen. I thought it made me cool. I did stop for a few years but I picked it up again once Tyler had his big gay revelation. Like, alright--after that, he was fucking around with drugs and alcohol and beer, and he used to smoke around me a lot, so I started again. It’s not healthy by any means, but it’s life, I suppose.”

“He says he doesn’t smoke cigarettes anymore, but I know he’s full of shit. I mean, I sleep next to him almost every night, sometimes we share clothes, and, uh... “

“‘Uh’ what?”

“It’s stupid, but I’m kind of… affectionate with him.”

Ashley scoffs. “How’s that stupid? How is being affectionate with your partner, who, by the way, has bent over backwards and crab walked through hell for you,  _ stupid?” _

“I get embarrassed easily. Shut up.” Josh scuffs his shoe on the ground before taking another drag of the cigarette. It’s easier this time. “I hug him whenever I have the chance, and a lot of the time when we’re in bed, I’m basically glued to him, so it’d be hard to not pick up on that smell.”

“Dude, you know what  _ stinks?”  _ He wasn’t expecting her to change the topic so fast, but he goes with it.

“What?”

“Crack. Fuck. Don’t tell Tyler, but my boyfriend isn’t a perfect angel. He smokes crack, and that shit is disgusting.”

“I couldn’t ever smoke that shit. I mean, I tried, but it stunk, and I also have neighbors I need to worry about. There’s one other guy who lives on my floor, then the rest of the floors have, like, four apartments each. Easier just to snort coke, honestly.”

“You saw what kind of apartment I lived in. All those, like, locks on the door. It’s not a good place to live. I don’t like it, but I don’t have a good enough job to move somewhere else. Like, between school and tuition, and working full time, I’m surprised I’m even alive.”

“I had super good grades and a bunch of extra curriculars under my belt in high school, so I had a few good scholarships. I lived with Brendon for awhile. Have you met him?”

“A few times, yeah. He’s kind of a dick.”

“You aren’t wrong. Anyways, I lived with him until a little after I turned twenty four. So, six years. Couldn’t afford anything else. I had, like, a thing happen at some party a few months  _ before  _ I turned twenty one, and Brendon said I got weird after the thing happened. Of course, he doesn’t  _ know  _ about the thing, but… Yeah. He was also busting his ass to cover rent because I couldn’t really work given my school schedule. After I moved out, he moved in with Pete.”

“You must’ve been taking a bunch of classes.”

“I got my master’s by the time I was twenty one. Just took me awhile to find a good job.”

“Jesus Christ. How the fuck did you do that?”

“Dedication. I’m also  _ smart,  _ believe it or not.” Josh shrugs and flicks the cigarettes to knock the ashes off.

“Fair enough. Backtracking, though--what the fuck was the thing?”

“A sensitive subject, that’s for sure. I had a boyfriend at the time, and  _ I  _ thought we had at least an alright relationship, even though it was sort of unhealthy. Like, we did a  _ fuckload  _ of drugs together. There was one time, though, we were at a party, and he offered me a drink. A drink that had rohypnol in it. That’s all  _ I’m  _ going to say, but you can assume what happened.”

“Shit, man.”

“Tyler didn’t tell you?”

“Like I’ve said--he doesn’t tell me much about you. He’s secretive when it comes to you, and he explained it to me once, something about your privacy and all. The only time he’s said anything more than necessary was during that whole cancer thing. He came over for a bit around the beginning of it and was basically losing his mind. Pretty wild, honestly.”

Josh huffs. “Good to know I can trust him with my secrets.”

“He does talk to Pete, though, by the way. I don’t think he says much more to him than he says to me, but he sees him more often than he sees me, so it’s, like, not too big of a surprise.”

“Yeah. I figured he talked to Pete. That guy sort of took Tyler under his wing, and he’s kind of been like a mentor to him. It’s not a big deal.”

—-

Josh ends up splurging a little bit and gets a separate room to share with Tyler. He’s tired, because he’s had a long day, and Tyler’s tired as well, since he’s had both an exciting but long  _ week. _

“What’s it like being the most talented musician in the world?” Josh mumbles sleepily into the back of one of Tyler’s shoulders.

“I think you’re overselling me,” Tyler mumbles right back to him. “What’s it like being the best boyfriend in the world?”

“Mm, I dunno. You tell me.”

Tyler huffs at him. “You tryin’ to get into my pants or nothing?”

“Nah. I’m just, like, super in love with you and all that.”

Tyler grins into his pillow, and squeezes Josh’s hand. “The feeling is mutual.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra long chapter because hey 5k hits!! thats ,,, a lot  
> anyways 6k words . usually my chapters are between 2.5k-3k  
> im going with the draft i have for the next bits of this story and praying it turns out well  
> if it doesnt ill go back and rewrite until it makes sense to me ok  
> also maybe this fic doesnt make sense to anyone BUT me bc im the one who knows whats gonna happen  
> (thats a lie i only know whats going to happen up to a certain point and when i get to that point yall arent gonna see me for ANOTHER few months)

There's about two more uneventful months in Tyler's life, mostly since Josh had a stroke of genius and pushed the _release_ of Tyler's album back about six months, saying something about having more time for promotion, and giving Tyler a little more time to polish it up if need be.

Josh has a cold, and Tyler's taking a bath with him, rubbing his back since it's sore from him coughing, and just from general aches that tend to accompany colds. Josh sniffs, and in his rough, _'I'm sick and miserable,'_ voice, he asks Tyler to talk about something since the silence was getting nerve wracking for him.

"I think I'm going to try seeing my brother. I haven't seen him since my parents' divorce got finalized, because my mother got full custody, and since she hasn't spoken to me since she kicked me out. It's been almost three years and I miss him."

Josh nods. "Jordan thinks I don't give a shit about him, but I do. If I were in that situation, I'd definitely be upset. I don't even talk to my own brother, but I still love him. He's the only family I have that doesn't, like, hate me. I mean, my _mom_ doesn't hate me, I don't think, but she's... weird." Josh is rambling and Tyler figures he's tired. "Added, the last time I spoke to my dad was a few months before he died, and I'm pretty sure I socked him in the jaw."

"Serves him right, considering the shit he put you through, I suppose." Tyler shrugs, and reaches around Josh for a wash cloth and the body wash the older man uses. "I want to try talking to Mom. Maybe get her to see that I'm not, like, some evil, satanic little heathen that likes to get dicked down by various men. I mean, I have the last part down, sort of, but I'm also just a person, and I--I love my family, you know? I'm not overly fond of my mom, but I love her because she's my mom, and I love my dad and my brother and my grandparents and aunts and uncles, and you and Pete and Ashley and Jenna and Debby and Patrick and Dallon and even Brendon to some extent."

"I'm family?"

"Yep. You're family to me in the way Dad was family to Mom."

"Huh." Josh shrugs. "Honestly, I think you should try seeing your brother. Life passes too quickly. I mean, it felt like one minute I was eighteen and excited about life, then the next I'm almost thirty three, with my partner of three and a half years washing my back for me because I'm too sick to do it myself. It felt like Nathan was born a few months ago, but he turns five in January of next year. I felt like I met you, like, last week, but it's been three and a half years. Though... I also feel like I've known you my whole life, y'know? Shit's weird. Point is, go see your brother."

"Thanks for, like, always supporting me and stuff. I know sometimes you blow me off and tell me to just do what I want, but mostly you encourage me or give me advice or something and I really appreciate it."

"Just returning the favor. You pretty much saved my life, and Ashley even told me that you, and I quote, bent over backwards and crab walked through hell for me. Also, I mean, I love you, more than anything. If the least I can do is essentially just be nice to you, then I don't see why not. You know those, like..." Josh adjusts his position and makes a few small gestures with his hands. "Those movies or shows with the one couple who've been together for eons, and how the guy basically worships the girl and basically caters to her beck and call? That's about how I feel with you. I mean, right now, you could ask me to walk to the diner and get you a burger, and I totally would."

Tyler snorts. "As sweet as you're being right now, I'm calling bullshit on that last part. You'd probably tell me to fuck off, then you'd go back to sleep for, like, eight hours."

Josh grins a little bit and coughs. Once he's recovered from his coughing fit, he responds. "I think that's a more realistic response from me."

"Of course it is. Anyways--" Tyler sits up a bit, and wraps his arms around Josh's torso, hugging him; "you ready to get out of here and lay down?"

"I'm warm, though."

"You'll be warmer with pajamas and a blanket, big guy. Plus me. I'll stay with you if you want."

"And that's why I call you a sweetheart," Josh states.

\---

Tyler waits for a few weeks, until Josh is over his cold, before he decides to just suck it up one Saturday morning and drive himself to his mother's condo. He has to borrow Josh's car, mostly since he doesn't have a car of his own, and since it was better than taking a cab. (And since he finally got around to getting his license renewed.)

It's a little chilly, given that it's May, so once Tyler knocks on the door, he's mentally telling her to hurry the fuck up since his jacket is thin and he's _cold._ When the door opens, he ends up having to be quick about having a hand on the door lest it get slammed in his face. "Mom, will you just hear me out and not slam the door in my face?"

"The last time you spoke to me you called me a cunt, yet you expect me to hear you out?" She sounds bitter and harsh and although Tyler sort of gets it, he still doesn't like her tone.

"I know and I shouldn't have done that, but I was pissed off, and rightfully so. You''re still my mom, though, homophobic or not." Tyler looks her dead in the eye. He's taller than her now. Just barely, but he still is, and in this moment, he's never felt more like a man. There's something about standing up to your parents that makes someone feel liberated.

She sighs, and steps back to allow Tyler inside. The place is spotless and _too_ clean and Tyler kind of hates it already. He follows her when she heads towards a different room that he finds out is the kitchen. It's a little cramped, mostly since it's not an actual house, but it's a kitchen and Tyler still ends up sitting on the island.

"So, are you here to tell me you have AIDS and want free healthcare?" She asks, snidely, as she's wiping one of the counters down. Tyler figures she was in the middle of doing that before he'd showed up.

"Well, for one thing, if I had AIDS, I'd be seeing a better doctor than _you,_ and also, HIV and AIDS are two different things, neither of which I have. I'm still with Josh, and we're exclusively only sleeping with each other, so if I somehow acquire HIV or some other STD, I will be thoroughly shocked. I _am_ here to see my brother, though. I haven't seen him in almost three years."

She turns around and gives Tyler a nasty look. "Then why haven't you shown up sooner?"

"It's not like you're talking to me. You refuse to talk to me, and I had to badger _Dad_ for your fucking address. You can't blame me when you're the one who decided to cut me off instead of being like Dad and joining PFLAG and trying to learn or some bullshit like that."

She makes a face. "PFLAG?"

"Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, I think. Some bullshit like that. He joined after I was bashed at my senior prom, and one of my friends' mom is the president of the PFLAG chapter that Dad's a part of. Anyways, that's not the point of this conversation. Can I see my brother or not?"

She sighs and wipes the back of her hand against her forehead. Tyler notices that she looks tired and more defeated than he remembers. "What would happen if I let you 'hang out' with him today?"

"Probably go get something to eat, and maybe hang out or something at my apartment. I mean, I have cable and I have video games and shit like that. He likes that stuff last I remembered. There's other things to do in Columbus, though. It's also been three years, like I said, so I'm sure either of us have a lot of stuff to catch up on."

"Your _apartment?_ I don't want him around that--that _Josh."_

"He's not 'that Josh.' It's Josh. Anyways, Josh gets up, at the earliest, around noon on the weekends. The most he'll do is give either of us a grunt of acknowledgment, maybe say something awkward if he's feeling like it, then he'll go make himself breakfast or eat leftovers from last night. That's about all he does on Saturdays. And that's if I can't find something else to do. Josh isn't some hell spawn like you make him out to be. He's my partner and like it or not, you're going to have to get used to it."

"What's he like?" She asks, quietly.

Tyler wasn't expecting that question. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me about him. I just--I don't get _how_ the two of you are still together."

"We're together because we love each other. We've also been through a lot of shit, more than you'd think could happen in three and a half years, and we've just... stuck. For me, at least, I still like him just as much as I did when we got together."

"What kind of 'shit'?" She quirks an eyebrow, and Tyler thinks she's trying.

"Uh. That's... there's been a lot. The first bit of shit was after the thing happened at prom. He watched the whole thing happen, and I don't remember any of it, but he's probably the reason I'm alive right now. Like, I could've died, and I'm lucky I don't have any brain damage. I think... about a year after that... So, he's--he's a drug addict. Like, he's not using right now, but he overdosed around the time he turned thirty two, and he was _adamant_ on going to work a few days after that and ended up losing his job.

"So... I called around and basically forced him to start going to an NA group. It's done him a lot of good. I was there to support him, because, like--he was dependent on drugs and didn't know how to deal with all of his shit without getting high, so I helped him with that. There's that.

"Sometime around the six month mark of him being clean, he got diagnosed with testicular cancer, or something, and although we're lucky he caught it in time, those, like..." Tyler has to count in his head-- _January, February, March, and April--_ "four months, ish, were terrible and super tough. I took a break that semester since I was the only one he'd let take care of him. He's kind of like a cat. He's super picky and selective with who he trusts. I think out of our entire friend group he only trusts me and his best friend, Dallon.

"Um. A few days after his last day of radiation he got into a bad fight with one of his friends, and he wasn't, like, the healthiest, at least physically. He lost a _bunch_ of weight, and even now he's nowhere near as beefy as he used to be. Anyways, he was upset and ended up fainting and shit, which was super scary. Turns out he was super anemic and I ended up, like, donating blood since I'm a universal donor or some shit, and since he just so happens to have some weird ass rare blood type.

"After _that--_ okay, so, there's two lesbians that we're friends with. Well, he's friends with. One of them was my lawyer during the whole trial thing, and the other is kind of a mother figure to me, no offense. Anyways, they're together, and Josh is their sperm donor. He has one kid, Nathan, and he's fucking adorable. I love him to bits. Anyways, they wanted another kid, and he was concerned about it for a few reasons, but I was like--I tried my best to basically tell him to go for it. Mostly for legal reasons, but also, like... Nate's adorable, and I want to see if his next offspring are gonna be adorable too. They probably will be."

"He has a _kid?"_ She looks mortified.

"Technically yes. He's not, like, _parenting_ the kid, aside from babysitting whenever Jenna and Deb are busy, but he provides financial support for them and loves Nathan more than anything. Of course, he wouldn't admit it, probably, but I know he does. _Anyways,_ in January of this year, I'm pretty sure, Jenna found out that she's pregnant with twins; one boy and one girl, and Josh was losing his mind over that but I basically told him to suck it up because it's not the end of the world, or really even a bad thing.

"Backtracking to... I think it was the end of November of last year, but I had to go to Seattle because there was a record label trying to sign me, and one of the last days I was supposed to be there, I was in a car accident in a cab and broke my right arm. It was super scary, but I'm alright now. Anyways, that's about it. I think the most recent thing would be him popping up in New York since I was opening for a band in front of an audience of ten thousand. Ashley apparently told him that I bent over backwards and crab walked through hell for him, which isn't necessarily untrue. He's done the same for me, for the most part.

"Point is, Josh is a good person, and there's more to him that people think. I _really_ love him, Mom. Like, in the way that I can totally see myself bickering with him when we're old and crotchety while our grand kids tell us to shut up."

"I think your father told me this once, but apparently you know a relationship is meant to be if you share a Costco membership."

Tyler starts laughing, and nodding. "See? We _do_ share a Costco membership. We are _totally_ meant to be. Thank god for Dad and his wisdom."

She smiles a little sadly. "If you want to see your brother, you can. Just... Don't let him do anything illegal, I suppose."

\---

Within an hour, Tyler's about halfway from his mother's condo to a diner (but not _the_ diner) with his brother in the passenger's seat when _Debby_ calls him. She doesn't talk to him on her own, usually, unless it's about her needing Josh's attention, or unless she needs someone to babysit on short notice, so he ends up pulling into a gas station parking lot to answer his phone.

Zack gives him a _look,_ and Tyler gives _him_ a look as he's calling Debby back.

Basically, the point is, Tyler has to backtrack, and add at least another half hour to this trip that should've taken ten minutes, if that, in the first place.

"Why are we going back?"

"My friend Debby needs me to babysit her son while she takes her wife to a doctor's appointment."

"Why can't someone else do it?" he makes a bit of a face.

"Because it was either she called me or called Josh, and I have Josh's car right now, so it's easier if I just go and get him."

"Still. _Why_ you?"

"Josh is my partner and he's Nathan's biological father, so he usually gets passed onto us whenever it's necessary. Based on how you look at it he could technically be considered my step son."

"Oh."

There's a few minutes of silence until Zack decides to say something.

"I don't hate you, by the way. Mom pisses and moans about you being gay, but I don't care. You're my big brother. I don't really get the gay thing but Dad explained one time that basically you feel about boys the way I feel about girls."

"To dumb it down, that's basically it."

He nods, and ends up asking, "Can I meet Josh? I remember him coming over a few times when Dad was working with him, but I never, like, actually met him."

"If you want, yeah. I mean, I want to go out to eat, but if you want I could just make something myself. Nathan will probably want to see him, and I know Josh would probably appreciate a meal more than microwaved leftovers. Added, I'm still sort of used to making food for you _and_ Josh anyways."

"I wish you lived with me and Mom. She never cooks. Like, she drinks and smokes and expects me to live off of TV dinners. Dad's tried getting custody a few times, but they always rule in favor of her, and I just--I wish they wouldn't. Like, she spends all her money on cigarettes and booze, and, jeez--I don't even have any shoes aside from the pair I'm wearing, and I only have a week's worth of outfits. I even had to learn how to do my own laundry. It's such _bullshit."_

"Are you serious?" Tyler gives him an incredulous look since they're stopped at a red light.

"One hundred percent."

"I just..." Tyler frowns, and ends up spending another five minutes thinking before continuing. "I can't--I don't have much power in this situation, but, if you want, I can buy you as many clothes as you need. Josh sort of has a good job and I have one of his debit cards so I could buy you what you need. It's bullshit that she expects you to live off of fucking TV dinners and expects you to make do with only a few outfits. You need to talk to Dad about this."

"Mom won't let me talk to him."

"Fuck her. I'll talk to him my damn self." Tyler's pissed off, to say the least.

The conversation ends here, mostly since he's pulling up in front of the Ryan-Black household. Tyler tells Zack to sit tight while he's walking up to their door. He knocks three times, and within fifteen seconds, Debby's the one answering. She ushers Tyler inside.

In a hushed voice, she says, "He's having a bad day, and I know he likes you and Josh, so I figured that it'd be a fun change of pace for him. He's going to have a tantrum if he has to sit in a doctor's office with me and Jenna."

"Alright. That's cool. Um. I do have my brother with me, though. He's in the car, but I haven't seen him in three years, so I just... yeah. I have a lot of shit I have to today, so, if it's alright, I'm probably going to end up leaving Nate with Josh."

"That's totally fine. Thank you so much for doing this."

\---

"Alright, so, what I need you to do is go into Josh's room, and _jump_ on him," Tyler's saying, trying not to grin a shit eating grin at what's sure to unfold. He knows Josh wouldn't dare to be mean to Nathan, but he also knows that if he, himself, woke Josh up, he'd get an attitude out of him for at least an hour.

Tyler shoos Zack off to the living room, before trailing behind Nathan as the four and a half year old is making his way to the bedroom. Tyler leans against the door frame, and starts cackling a bit as Nathan basically launches himself onto Josh's sleeping form, giggling and saying, "Dad! Wake up!"

Josh jerks awake, and rolls over, knocking Nathan off of him. He's about to gripe, but once he gets a glimpse of the four year old, he groggily says, "Hey there, buddy. What're you doin' here?"

Tyler answers for him. "Deb needed me to babysit short notice. Um. Also, once you're, like, awake, I need to talk to you about a few things."

Josh's gaze moves towards Tyler, and after he yawns and blinks a few times he answers. "Alright." He focuses his attention back towards his son. "Why don't you go in the living room and watch TV, yeah?"

Nathan nods, obeying him almost immediately. Once the four year old is out of the room, Tyler steps forward and closes the door enough to where it's barely cracked. He kicks his shoes off before he's crawling onto the bed to straddle Josh's hips. He smiles fondly when the older man's hands immediately gravitate towards his own.

"How'd it go with your mom?"

"We had a civil conversation, and she agreed to let Zack hang out with me for the day. He's, uh, in the living room right now, probably hogging the TV."

"Ah."

"He wants to meet you, by the way, but that's not what I wanted to talk about."

Josh nods, and lets his head fall back against his pillows.

"It's kind of a serious topic, so I wanted to wait until after I made breakfast and coffee for all of us. Or, well, coffee for you, at least."

"You're definitely the best boyfriend a man could ask for. It's decided."

Tyler rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He's about to get up to leave, but Josh's hands move to Tyler's thighs, and Tyler just gives him a bored look, especially when he feels Josh adjusting his position to where his morning wood is very obviously _there._ "Dude, your four year old son and my eleven year old brother are both sitting in the living room, otherwise I'd totally be down to suck you off right now."

"Won't take more than five minutes, I promise."

"Well, of course. Have you looked at me?"

Josh scoffs lightly and nudges Tyler a little bit. "It'd be the perfect start for the day, seeing you on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock."

Tyler giggles a bit. "Shut up. Listen, we haven't done anything in almost a month because we were busy then you got that cold, so tonight, I promise that we can do almost anything you want, within reason."

"Have I ever told you how awesome you are?"

"You could stand to mention it more." Tyler bends down and pecks Josh on the lips before he's sliding off of him and leaving the room.

\---

"Alright, so, there's three of you," Tyler states, looking in front of him at the three people sitting on bar stools. "What do you all want?"

He subtly gestures towards Zack to go first, and he mumbles, "Don't care as long as it's not bacon."

"Okay. Nate, how about you?"

"Scrambled eggs and juice."

"Fair enough. And now you, Josh. What do you want?"

"Waffles."

"We don't own a waffle iron. The last one broke because _someone_ spilled water all over it."

"So? That's not my problem." Josh shrugs and yawns.

"It's your apartment."

"I like how the minute I don't have a waffle iron, it's suddenly _my_ apartment."

"You pay the rent, so it's yours."

"You've lived here for three years, Ty. It's _your_ apartment now."

"I'm not buying a waffle iron right this second. If you want waffles, walk to the diner. Though... I'll meet you halfway. Pancakes with blueberries."

Josh grunts. "Fine."

Tyler grins at him.

\---

As Tyler's setting a plate of eggs and a plate with a stack of blueberry pancakes on the table, along with the carton of orange juice that was in the fridge, his brother asks, "So, like, are you the girl?"

Josh answers for him. "The point of being gay is that we're both men."

"Yeah, but, like, he's cooking."

"So? I cook too."

Tyler remembers that his brother is _super_ argumentative when he's retorting with, "Who does laundry?"

"I usually do, but Josh also works twelve hours a day at least. Doing laundry isn't that hard anyways. I just have to be careful since _someone_ likes to wear designer suits."

"Your wardrobe isn't exactly cheap either," Josh mumbles as he's sitting down and grabbing two pancakes off of the stack that Tyler just placed.

"Yeah, yeah." Tyler rolls his eyes and sits down in the seat opposite of Josh.

\---

About fifteen minutes later while Tyler's rinsing dishes, and handing them to Josh so he can put them in the dishwasher, Josh asks, "What was the thing you wanted to talk about?" in a quiet voice.

"My mom and my brother," Tyler responds just as quietly. "We should probably discuss this further away from the living room, though."

"Is it that bad?"

"Kind of. I dunno. We're almost done with these dishes, so after this we could probably just go into one of the bedrooms and I'll, like, talk about shit."

"Gotcha."

\---

 _"Now_ can we talk about the thing?" Josh asks. He's getting dressed, and Tyler's sitting on the bed, watching him.

"So, living with my mom isn't the best thing for him, but every time my dad tries getting custody, the court always rules in favor of my mother."

"How isn't it the best thing?"

"He flat out told me that she spends all her money on booze and cigarettes, and that he's expected to live off of TV dinners. He even told me that he only has a week's worth of clothes and _one_ pair of shoes. I just... I don't know what to do. I offered to buy him clothes, since that's about all I can do at the moment, but... I dunno. I was kind of thinking about taking him over to Dad's and basically forcing him to talk to Dad."

"Didn't you say your mother's an abusive drunk?"

"Yeah, but I don't know if she hits him or not. She's slapped me across the face plenty of times and has left plenty of marks on _me,_ but I don't know if she does that to him, and I don't know how to just smoothly ask about that. I mean, I've only told you, my therapist, and Ashley about the shit my mom did. I mean, Dad knows and so does my little brother, but they also lived there too. There isn't shit I could do about emotional or verbal abuse, unless someone directly saw her or heard her doing that."

"Well, it takes more than a day to do anything, but, for now, I think you should buy him some clothes, like, as much as he wants or needs, plus shoes. Shoes are important."

"You have, like... probably twenty pairs of shoes."

"Twenty two."

"See? I have, like, maybe five pairs. I'm a simple man. Do you think I should buy food for him too? TV dinners suck and that's--that's no way to eat, you know?"

"Stick to clothes for now. I'm assuming you're using my debit card for this?"

"Of course I am. I don't have jack in my bank account, because buying music equipment isn't exactly cheap."

"True."

Tyler sighs a little bit, before he's getting up, since Josh missed a place when tucking his shirt into his pants. As he's fixing that, he says, "I feel like my mom is going to get mad at me. Like, maybe she'll feel like I'm trying to one up her, even though I'm not. She isn't even... I men, he's my baby brother. It's my job to take care of him."

"It's not technically your job, but I understand it. He's just a kid, and, no offense, but, your mother is a piece of shit. I mean, my parents did a shit job at raising me, because, like, look at how I turned out--I'm gay and a drug addict--but they never expected me to make do with so little. Though, my dad had a fit if Mom wasn't in the kitchen with dinner ready by the time he got home, but still. She at least made sure me and _my_ brother had more to eat than a fucking TV dinner, and made sure we had clothes to wear as well. Also, by the way--if you buy anything for him, keep the receipts."

"Around the time he turned five was when she started doing the thing where she expected _me_ to do household chores. He was supposed to help me with them too, but, like--he was _five._ I was fourteen or fifteen, meaning I was capable of doing it on my own. I dunno. I have some weird moral code about kids, like, not having to grow up so fast."

"What did your dad do in all of that?"

"Basically went with whatever Mother told him, and blindly sided with her. I think the first time he stood up to her was when she kicked me out. Besides that, though, he just... Didn't do much. Like, even when Mom would get drunk and start yelling and screaming and hitting me and/or my brother around, he'd just find a convenient excuse to not be there. And I mean, I get it--she's a doctor and was _our_ main source of income, because Dad's always made enough to get by, but still. He coulda said something."

"With my dad, we learned it was best to not stand up to him. One of the times I did stand up to him he broke my cheekbone, and I think I told you about the time he broke my nose. In hindsight, I wish either me or my brother or both of us would've said something to, like, at least the guidance counselor at the schools we went to."

"Mom's one for slapping, mostly. There have been a few occasions where she's shoved me into things, though. She used to be nice, honestly, but I dunno. Something changed and she got shitty. I just--I wish I could do more in this situation other than basically just bite my nails and pray it goes good." He finds himself wiping at his eyes after that, and gladly accepts the hug Josh offers him.

\---

By the time Tyler gets home that evening, he's already exhausted and ready to just go to bed. He opts for just plopping down next to Josh on the couch, though. Well, not next to him, but more like he lays down with his legs in Josh's lap.

Josh doesn't say anything; he just raises and eyebrow and turns the volume on the TV down a little bit, and leans forward to set a bowl of popcorn down on the table. "Sup?"

"I'm tired and my feet hurt from walking around a fucking mall since _someone_ apparently has expensive tastes for an eleven year old." Tyler sighs and closes his eyes. "Mom copped an attitude with me when she saw all the bags and shit. Also, I went into his room, and he seriously wasn't joking about the clothes thing. I have so much shit on my plate at the moment, and now I have to _actually_ worry about my brother."

"Can I help at all...?"

"Rub my feet?"

Josh huffs and sits up a bit so he can hop to.

"I need to talk to my Dad tomorrow, then I have finals all fucking week, not to mention, like, two doctor's appointments, and I have to go grocery shopping on Monday, and I'm going to be up late every night cramming because I suck at studying. That's not even mentioning the possibility of me having to babysit Nate, because apparently Jenna's going to be out of town and Deb needs someone to watch him while she's at work, and _you_ can't do it since you're literally her boss."

"Brendon babysits for her too, y'know. She goes to me, then you, then Brendon, then whoever else. Probably Pete. Who knows. Also, I can go grocery shopping. You don't have to everything on your own, man. As far as, like, groceries and household shit goes, it's not too much to ask me to pitch in."

"I'm used to doing everything on my own. I don't know how housewives do it. Like, they keep everything spotless, they cook all the meals, and even take the time to look pretty for their husbands, and I mean, I do basically the same shit, but I get exhausted. I clean, I do most of the laundry, I cook most of our meals, and I'm pretty particular about my appearance, mostly for myself but also because of you."

"I think you're gorgeous on your own, Ty."

"I know, but still. I just feel like I have to do all this shit and on most days it's not a big deal but then sometimes I'll have a shit day or something will happen and every bit of stress that I ignore hits me and, also, my right foot isn't the only foot I have. Pay attention to the other one."

"I was serious when I told you to tell me when shit got too much for you," Josh mumbles, not looking at Tyler. He's frowning slightly.

"I forget, alright? I know I can tell you about this stuff, but I forget because in my family, we don't talk about anything. We shut up and pretend everything's fine."

"We did the same thing in my family, yet I'm an open book around you."

"I'm used to taking care of you. That's another part of it. I'm used to being the one who takes care of you and in my head, like--in my head, burdening you with all my problems is the opposite of taking care of you."

"I'm an adult, Tyler. I can take care of myself."

"I know, but I feel like if I _don't_ do anything then something's gonna happen to you and then I'm going to feel like shit for not doing more about it. Whenever you're sick--or--or whenever, like--Jesus--" Tyler wipes at his eyes and makes a bit of an attempt to not start hyperventilating. "Whenever you're sick or whenever something's wrong with you I always get so stressed because I just--I can't fix everything. I can't fix everything and my _fucking anxiety_ is so stupid. I get so obsessive about everything and then my anxiety gets worse when things don't go exactly how I need them to.

"Like, right now--my brother's stuck with my mother, and she's just--she's not even bothering to take care of him properly, and I hate that, because _he's my brother;_ I have to take care of him and make sure he's alright but I can't do _shit_ about it right now. On top of that, I have finals like I said, and I'm afraid I'm going to fail them, because I'm literally a semester or two away from having a degree, and because you're paying for it and I just--I don't want all of that to be a waste--"

"I hate being a dick right now, but have you been taking your prescriptions?"

"... No."

Josh sighs. "You need to take them. If I didn't take mine, I'd, like, cry every time someone so much as sneezed."

"I keep forgetting. I'm supposed to take them before bed but I forget, and I can't take them in the morning because I'll get tired and won't be able to do anything."

"Sit up," Josh tells him. Once Tyler's sat up, and with his legs out of Josh's lap, Josh stands up. "I'm getting you your meds, and I'm making you a sandwich. There's no room for argument right now."

"Wait--Josh?"

"What?"

"Does this mean I'm not getting laid tonight?"

Josh snorts and smiles a bit. "I guess not. Would being cute and gay make up for it?"

"We're always cute and gay."

"Well, _yeah,_ but, like... cuter _and_ gayer."

Tyler wipes his eyes again, and looks up at Josh. "Go get my prescriptions and make me a sandwich, then get in here and hold me."

"Will do."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall didnt think i forgot about this fic  
> heres 5k of mostly joshler being gay  
> also i like how before i get angsty i drop a lot of fluff and filler tbh  
> theres going to be a filler chapter at some point because theres something i really want to write bc itd be funny but i might not go w it we'll see

July third, 2004, at around three in the afternoon, Tyler finds himself with his ass parked in one of the bar stools at the diner, staring up at the TV, since _Bell_ has a press conference, and since (almost) their entire friend group planned to show up just to watch what happened. (Almost meaning that Pete, Jenna, Dallon, and Brendon are all there as well.) They're all curious as to what issues he's going to talk about, what questions he's going to answer, and Tyler's hoping he crashes and burns, because, hey, he hates the guy.

Out of the five of them, and besides Pete, who's working anyways, and Tyler, Jenna's the first to show up. As soon as Tyler's eyes land on her, he, essentially, flips his shit. "Oh my _god!_ Your belly!" He's grinning madly and wildly and he's already obsessed. "It's huge!"

She smiles sweetly, and lets Tyler help her into one of the bar stools. "They need to come out already," she grumbles grumpily. "My doctors are estimating late August, early September, and I _honestly_ can't wait. I'm ready, honey, I'm _ready._ There's so much more hard work that goes into carrying twins than you'd think."

Tyler just keeps grinning. "Well, listen—hard work or not, I'm still super excited. I know they aren't going to be my children, but I am _so_ looking forward to babysitting."

"And changing diapers, and bottle feeding, and putting in a lot more effort than you think?" Jenna has her tongue in her cheek and her eyebrows raised.

"Oh, _please._ You act like Josh actually did any of that shit when Nathan was still in diapers and bottle feeding." Tyler rolls his eyes. "He's clueless with infants. He barely knows how to change a diaper, and after trying to explain why you can't just microwave baby formula for, like, twenty minutes, I gave up and just did all that shit for him."

She huffs. "Well, at least you're sweet."

Tyler grins in a _fake_ sweet way and leans over to peck her on the cheek before the two of them fall into a conversation about dish washing with Pete, up until Dallon and the village asshole—Brendon--show up. The two of them join in on the conversation as well, and it's a conversation that, honestly, goes strong, at least up until the news anchor on the TV is announcing that Bell's press conference is about to start.

Shortly after, the program cuts to a live feed, and the first thing of Brendon's mouth is, "I like how Josh already looks like he's tapped out."

"Honey, he tapped out before he even left the apartment." Tyler lets out a breath, continuing to stare up at the TV. There's hardly anyone in the diner aside from the group at the counter, and there's hardly any noises being made aside from everyone adjusting their positions here and there, and Pete, who is going about washing cups.

Bell eventually steps up to the podium, and Tyler—he's a musician, he knows how things go when someone's _live,_ and he internally chuckles a bit at how the conference is held up for a few more moments while the tech crew is making sure all of the microphones are working properly, because it's something he sort of relates to in a way.

Most of the questions right off the bat are boring. He's asked about how he's going to go about tackling the crime rate in Ohio, which has apparently been rising, and he's asked about what sorts of legislation he plans to pass in order to improve the state of Ohio as a whole. His answers are boring too—they're text book, honestly, especially for a conservative.

It goes on like that for at _least_ ten minutes, up until someone near the back of the crowd is piping up, shouting, _"What do you have to say about the allegations that you're a homophobe?"_

 _"That could've been phrased better,"_ is Tyler's first thought. He does have to tip his hat to that person for having the balls to do that, though.

Brendon snorts and Pete lets out a little, "Heh," in response. Jenna and Dallon are both silent, taking to just staring with slightly piqued interest.

 _"I am very supportive of that community. Hell, just awhile back I donated a hefty sum of money to the Ohio LGBT Center."_ As soon as he finishes that statement, Josh is leaning forward and whispering something into his ear, before going back to looking stoic and emotionless behind the man. _"Pardon me, I misspoke. It was the AIDS hospice. On top of that, my top adviser,"_ he gestures towards Josh, and Tyler catches the exact moment of _'Shit,'_ that comes across the man's face before Bell continues; _"Joshua Dun, is gay, so do you really think that I would've hired him in the first place if I were a homophobe?"_

"Did he just _out_ Josh...?" Jenna's mumbling, eyes wide and staring in disbelief at the TV.

Tyler stares as well, since he doesn’t quite believe it either. “I… think so.”

“What’s that look on his face mean?” Brendon asks. “You’re the translator of Josh looks.” He also leans back to look at Tyler without Dallon being in the way.

“Well, I’m going to assume he’s thinking something along the lines of, “Well, I’m fucked.””

“This is terrible,” Dallon mutters as he’s leaning back to knock back the rest of the soda he was drinking. “I hate when straight people act like they can just out someone as their token gay. Like… That’s not how it works, y’know? It's _dangerous_ to out someone."

"Literally. I'm basically a cautionary tale. Josh outed me near the beginning of my senior year in high school, and we all know how _that_ ended up. That's an example of why you shouldn't out someone. I mean, sure, I probably would've came out that year anyways, but it would've been on my own terms." Tyler's rambling at that point, but he doesn't really care.

"How'd he out you?" Jenna asks this with her eyebrows drawn together.

"We met on a Thursday, and he took me to school the next day. Sometime during that night, someone had tagged his car with 'faggot' on the side of it in pink. He took me to school in _that,_ threatened to kick the guy who later bashed me at my prom's 'tight little virgin ass' if he ever spoke to me that way again. Although... Josh never did kick his 'tight little virgin ass,' but he did bust one of his knee caps with a baseball bat after the whole prom incident." Tyler shrugs. He ends up flashing his ID to order a beer, but ends up accidentally showing Pete his fake ID instead.

"Tyler, you're twenty one," Pete tells him as he's filling the order.

Tyler frowns and looks at his ID, and groans after realizing his error. "Force of habit. I keep forgetting that I'm old enough to drink."

"Even though you look twelve." Brendon mumbles this barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

"Can it, asshole," Tyler retorts as he reaches around Dallon to whack the back of Brendon's head. When Brendon reaches around Dallon to do the same thing, Dallon grabs his arm and gives him a _look._

Pete chooses that moment to make eye contact with Brendon, and to make a whipping noise. Tyler has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.

"What? He can hit me but I can't hit back?"

"No, because I know you, and I know you're going to escalate it. Both of you keep your hands to yourself." Dallon lets go of Brendon's arm, and returns it back to the counter so he can refocus on the press conference, and so he can change the subject back to more... pressing matters. "I can't believe he actually just outed Josh. He's so careful to be closeted, at least professionally, too. Jeez."

"It's fucking bullshit, if you ask me," Brendon's saying around a mouthful of hamburger. "Absolute bullshit."

\---

Tyler's tidying up the living room when Josh comes home around seven. He's adjusting the throw blanket that they keep on the back of the couch, whereas Josh is throwing his coat onto the coat rack and tugging his blazer off to huck it in the general direction of one of the arm chairs. His keys get tossed onto the coffee table, and he plops down onto the couch to take his shoes off before he's up again, pacing.

Tyler finishes adjusting the blanket before he's plopping down onto the couch with his legs tucked under him. "Josh, babe, if you're gonna pace, do it behind the couch so I can watch TV."

Josh doesn't really even acknowledge him aside from giving him a bit of a look before he continues his pacing antics. He starts ranting eventually. "You can't just _out_ someone on the news that half of fucking Ohio and probably a bunch of my clients are going to see!" He's half shouting and Tyler sighs silently.

"It was uncool that he did that. He had no right. But... shit happens, I guess." Tyler frowns, just a bit, and as Josh walks past him, he grabs the man's hand. "Sit down and quit pacing."

This time, Josh actually shouts, "I can't! I'm _pissed_ _off!"_ He kicks a stuffed animal that Nathan had left the last time he was there across the living room, and brings his foot back down with a stomp. He buries his hands on his hair before he starts ranting, gesturing almost wildly. "I was too _shocked_ and _angry_ to even chew him out, y'know?! What if my parents didn't know? What if I was married or something like that? What if I had kids who I didn't want knowing I was gay? What if my fucking _brother_ didn't know? Don't even get me started in my goddamn _clients._ God, this could so totally _bone_ _me! Fuck!"_

"Well," Tyler starts as he adjusts his position. "Your dad's dead, your mom knows and she's actually alright with it, you came out to your brother when you were like eighteen, Nathan's going to be five in January and is too young to really care about it, and he wouldn't in the first place given he's being raised by two lesbians, and the twins aren't going to be born for another few months, _and_ I'm sure most of your clients will probably just be like, "It's your personal life; you can do what you want.""

 _"Tyler,_ honey, most of my clients are middle aged, fat, conservative white men with thinning hair. A fuck ton of my clients are iffy with me in the first place since my hair's dyed and since I'm, like, very vaguely _not_ white. Me being gay is just frosting on top of the shit cake."

Tyler sighs. "Lose the tone, dude. Have you taken your prescriptions today?"

"Only the ones I have to take daily," Josh mumbles, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Okay. How about you take the one you're supposed to take whenever you feel a panic attack coming on, and we worry about this tomorrow, yeah?" Tyler stands up again, and heads towards their kitchen, where they keep all of their pill bottles. He hears Josh following him.

While he's dumping a pill into his hand, and as he's filling up a glass with grapefruit juice, Josh's favorite, Josh asks, "What am I going to do?"

"Take it a day at a time, Josh. That's what I always tell you to do, and it always works. I try my best to do the same thing, and when I succeed, it actually does help me to not be stressed. Anyways, you don't have any meetings until Monday, and next week is supposed to be a relatively calm week, correct?"

Josh makes a face that Tyler catches as he's turning towards Josh to hand him the juice and the pill. He takes it, and mumbles out, "Quit being right and really wise all the time, man. You're totally cramping my style."

Tyler rolls his eyes and grins a tiny bit. "What _style?_ You just buy expensive clothes and you suck at coordinating outfits."

 _"Excuse_ you." Josh scoffs and nudges Tyler in the arm. "I'm fucking hot."

"Of course you are. That's why we're still together. Who coordinates your outfits and gets onto you if you wear something that clashes?"

"For one thing, we're together because we are _totally_ disgustingly in love, and also..." Josh makes another face. "You do."

"Exactly." Tyler only has to stand at his full height to be able to kiss Josh on the lips, and it's at this moment he realizes he's not that much shorter than him anymore. "Before you met me, you were a tacky mess."

Josh shrugs in a way that means, _"Fair enough,"_ and drinks the rest of the juice before setting the glass next to his sink. (Tyler didn't give him very much juice in the first place—just enough to take the pill with, and to wash away any bad aftertastes.)

"Why don't we go in the bedroom--"

"--and fuck?" Josh looks at him hopefully. Tyler can tell he isn't being totally serious.

"--no. I'm not in the mood, and usually when you are you start getting touchy-feely with me, so I know you're not either. Also, I don't have the dedication to spend an hour cleaning myself. _Anyways,_ what I was going to say--why don't we go in the bedroom, you change out of your work clothes, and I put on a pair of sweatpants, and we lay down and cuddle and watch a movie or something?"

"That's kind of gay."

"Really? We've been together for almost four years. It's just now that you decide to tell me that we're gay?"

"You're a smart ass. Why do I love you?"

" _Please._ You live by the grace of me. Of course you love me."

Josh sticks his tongue out at Tyler, and after another eye roll from Tyler, Josh ends up smiling into a kiss that the younger man plants on his lips.

"How about it, though?"

"Fine. If we can't find a movie that we both agree on, though, we have to watch a TV show of my choosing."

"If that happens," Tyler starts as he's stepping around Josh, assuming the man is going to just follow him (which he does), "we're going to end up watching Six Feet Under, That 70's Show, or one of those weird Japanese cartoons you like."

 _"Listen._ Those 'weird cartoons' are a gift from god. The art style is kinda weird but also cool, and don't act like I haven't caught you watching some of my box sets."

"I didn't say they were bad, just that they were weird." Tyler shrugs. "Anyways—am I wrong?"

"No, probably not." By now, they're in the bedroom, and Tyler's in the process of unbuckling his belt and walking over to his dresser to find a pair of sweatpants to wear. Josh is near his own dresser, undoing his tie and taking a minute to roll it up before sticking it into his tie drawer. After that, he's unbuttoning his shirt, and fumbles a bit with the cuffs of his sleeves. Tyler's walking past as he's shrugging it off, so he asks him to put it into their laundry hamper for him.

Josh ends up in shorts and an over sized shirt that he and Tyler fight over. Of course, they don't talk about it, but they go back and forth with it. Sometimes Tyler wears it, but then Josh offers to do laundry so he can steal it for himself, then Tyler finds a way to steal it back by batting his eyelashes and being all cute by asking Josh if he can borrow a shirt. They don't know why they fight over this shirt, aside from the fact that it's comfortable and nice to sleep in.

Josh ends up in the bed first, sitting Indian style, waiting for Tyler to pick a movie. Tyler asks him for feedback as he looks at their DVD and VHS collection. (Tyler likes sitting in the bedroom to watch movies or TV shows in the evening. As much as he loves the TV in Josh's living room, his couch still makes his ass sore after half an hour, and unless it's from getting dicked down good, Tyler hates having a sore ass.)

"Titanic?"

"Tyler, the last time we watched it, I cried and ended up working myself into a panic attack. No to that one."

"Alright. Um. Pulp Fiction?"

"Uma Thurman doesn't really get me going, so no thanks."

"Silence of the Lambs?"

"I'm stressed enough as it is. I don't need that creepy shit stressing me out even more."

"Home Alone? Lion King? Toy Story? Aladdin? The Mask? Nightmare Before Christmas?"

"No, no, no, no, I hate Jim Carrey, and Nightmare Before Christmas kinda creeps me out."

Tyler rolls his eyes, and spots one movie that makes him look over his shoulder at Josh, giving him a knowing look as he asks, "You wanna watch Fight Club?" It's actually more of a statement than a fact, honestly.

Josh, reluctantly, lets out a quiet, "Yeah. I do."

Tyler grabs the movie, and sets it on the foot of the bed as he walks over to the TV, which is one of those bulky dinosaur ones, despite being huge, and he has to awkwardly look behind it so he can actually hook the tape player up to the damn thing. He turns the TV on once he manages to do that, and fucks with the buttons on it until he can change the input to _Video 2._

"Josh, toss me the VHS remote," he tells the man once he's back at the foot of the bed to grab the movie. Josh reaches to his left, and tosses the right remote at Tyler, who catches it with ease. Once the movie is in the tape player, and while it rewinds since Josh always forgets to rewind their tapes when he watches them, he's walking over to the bed to sit on his side of it.

Tyler ends up sitting up against the headboard with one pillow behind him to support his back, and Josh ends up on his back with his head in Tyler's lap. Tyler runs his fingers through Josh's hair, knowing that's a thing the man likes when he's anxious. He hasn't outwardly said it, but Tyler can tell he's pretty freakin' anxious given the way he basically melts the second Tyler has a hand in his hair.

"How do you always manage to make me feel like the world isn't ending, or that things aren't as bad as I think they are, _or_ that I'm gonna be okay?" The question is quiet and Josh sounds... vulnerable, in a way.

As Tyler thinks of a response, he takes Josh's face in. He notices that the man is definitely aging. When Tyler met him four years ago, he was essentially wrinkle free. He didn't look super young, but at thirty three, Tyler can see the crows feet starting up at the corners of his eyes, just barely, and Josh's frown lines are more noticeable than Tyler remembers. The bags under his eyes are also slightly darker, but that could also be chalked up to the fact that Josh works himself ragged. There's faint lines running from the corner of Josh's eyes to damn near his cheek bones, and like this, without his usual, _"I dare you to fuck with me,"_ look, he just... looks his age.

"Well... I kind of have to convince myself of the same thing, which is hard, so I guess I'm not half bad at doing it for you. I also just hate seeing you upset or unhappy, and I just want you to be safe and happy, so it's sort of a reflex to take care of you."

"Have I mentioned how much I love you lately?" Josh actually opens his eyes to look up at Tyler, eyes so _fond_ and a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You haven't, at least not for a few weeks. I love you too, though. More than anything."

"Mm..." Josh closes his eyes again, and Tyler tries being sneaky about turning the volume on the TV down. "Can I get corny?"

"Of course. Corny always gets you laid."

Josh snorts. "Alright then. I'm serious—ignore how corny this is--but despite the fact that I still act tough and all that, sometimes I get to thinking about us, and I just... I think we gotta be soulmates, man. I feel like all the shit I've been through was just leading up to me meeting you, and I'm serious--you're the best thing to ever happen to me, and I just... I'm _meant_ to be with you."

"Is it corny if I say I feel the same way?"

"Just a little bit."

Tyler places a hand on one of Josh's cheeks, and brushes his thumb across the man's cheekbone. "I think about that a lot, honestly. I just... It's been awhile since I've said it, but I feel so _lucky_ that I get to call you my, uh... I go back and forth between boyfriend and partner, but I'm so glad and I feel so lucky that you're mine. Even when I was eighteen, I could pretty much feel it in my gut that you're just--you're the one, man, and I'm so fuckin' lucky I met you so early in my life. Some people don't meet the person they're meant to be with until they're, like, your age, or way older, but I managed to meet you so soon. I think part of why I was so stubborn about seeing you so often when we first met was because I could just _feel_ that we were meant for each other. I know that sounds kind of... fake, but I'm totally serious. I might even work that into a song for you."

Josh is blushing, and Tyler thinks it's adorable. Josh is also smiling a tiny bit, and that's also cute as hell.

"I believe in the multiverse theory, and also in reincarnation. If I'm honest, I think that in every light time we've lived, and in every universe we exist in—I think we always find each other, and even if we aren't together, we're at least best friends. I think about that a lot. Also, sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if we were the same age."

"If we were both twenty one right now... You'd probably hate me. I was kind of an asshole and kind of a dumb ass when I was twenty one. Also, I mean, I had a boyfriend anyways, and we didn't break up until after the thing happened."

"I don't think I would've hated you. I probably wouldn't have actively tried going after you, but I couldn't hate you. I mean, no offense, but you used to treat me like shit when we first were together, and I never hated you or even disliked you. Even before I said it, I had so much love in my heart for you, man. Added... I've seen pictures of you. You were pretty cute when you were twenty one. Ignoring the boyfriend, I totally would've been all over you."

"Are you implying I'm _not_ cute now?"

"You're still adorable, especially right now, but you're more... Handsome now. I mean, I'm still cute looking in that twink way, and I looked pretty damn young when we met."

"You're starting to fill out a little more, honestly. I noticed it awhile back that you're starting to look more like a man rather than a teenager. Your face is all... defined, and you don't really slouch as much as you used to."

"I try my best."

"And you are doing just fine, sweetheart." Josh grins up at him, and reaches his arms up to pull Tyler down, and to meet him halfway in a kiss.

"Quit being so sweet or I'm gonna have to fight you," Tyler mumbles with red cheeks and a tiny grin.

"I'm more fat than muscle right now, but I could totally kick your ass." It's an empty threat.

"I mean, I'm more skin and bones than I am muscle, aside from my thick thighs, so I'd say we're evenly matched." Tyler knows that, even right now, Josh could definitely take him in a fight, but he's teasing. "You sure you could actually take me, though? You've got a bit of a belly, mister."

 _"Excuse you,_ I do _not_ have a bit of a belly. I have the same amount of pudge that I had before I lost weight, due to having _cancer."_

"Actually, it was the side effects from hardly eating for six weeks while you were in radiation therapy, not the cancer itself," Tyler corrects him.

"Shut up. Quit getting technical. My point is that I lost a bunch of weight, and that I'm still twenty pounds lighter than I was, especially considering I haven't built my muscle back up."

"You look about the same as you did before all of that."

"My fat distribution is weird. It looks like I have muscle, but in reality, I don't. I mean, I can't even pick _you_ up anymore."

"Though... I'm not, like, 5'5" or however tall I was when I was eighteen, though."

"How tall were you last time you checked?"

"I'm 5'10" at the moment, and considering puberty technically lasts until someone's twenty five, I'll probably end up being as tall as you."

"Ah, shit. I like being the tall one." Josh makes a face. "Back to the topic of body fat, though. I wonder what you'd look like if you were fat."

"I get dad fat. Like, I basically look like I have a beer belly. I had a fat phase in middle school. That's how I know."

"Mm, well, either way, you need to eat more, man."

"I'm trying my best, dude. My therapist and my psychiatrist had a chat and they both agreed that I have an eating disorder. I wanted to argue with them, of course, but they're right. It's not even about my body image, though. Like, I'm hot. I know that."

"You're right. You are very hot."

"Quit trying to get into my pants, Joshua Dun." Tyler pats Josh's cheek, and Josh decides to take it upon himself to lower the volume on the TV. "Anyways, during my fat phase my mom would get onto me whenever I ate, basically, and would get onto me after I lost that weight saying shit about not needing to gain weight again. Like, for one thing, I was fourteen. That isn't the kind of shit you'd say to a fourteen year old. For another thing, it stuck with me. It always fluctuates according to my mental health, though, which is... odd, in my opinion. Like, if I'm not doing too hot, I drop weight, but if I'm fine then I gain weight until I'm normal."

"That sucks, man. Listen—I'll most likely be working less after November, which is the election month. I will totally make sure you eat three square meals a day, and maybe I'll even follow through on my vague promises of going on vacation."

Tyler makes a bit of a face. "You don't gotta."

"I know I don't, but, like... It'd be fun to travel, I think. I _love_ traveling, and I figure that traveling with you could be, like, some weird bonding thing. Anyways, have you ever been to Europe?"

"A few times. I went to France with my dad at some point, because some of his family from Lebanon lives there, but that's about it. My passport also expired when I was sixteen, and I feel like it's going to be a bitch to get another one."

"Why?" Josh raises an eyebrow.

"My driver's license and my ID both have something on them about me being Middle Eastern, and ever since 9/11, it's basically a sin to be Middle Eastern. Dad got enough shit after it since he runs a Lebanese restaurant, and I even got flack from a cop the one time I got a speeding ticket in, like, 2002."

"You got a _ticket?"_

"Yes, and I intentionally didn't tell you, because you were already iffy with me borrowing your car, so telling you I was speeding in it would probably have resulted in a fight. Hell, you get mad at me when I turn the overhead light on."

"I mean, yeah, but those lights are also a bitch to replace when they burn out."

Tyler rolls his eyes. _"Anyways._ How are you feeling right now? Calmer? Less angry and frustrated?"

Josh nods. "For now, at least. Talking to you always helps."

"One more question that I just thought of—have you seen Jenna lately? Her belly is _huge!_ I saw this morning and, man, I was more excited than I should've been."

"I haven't really seen or talked to her since April, and she wasn't _too_ big then."

"Dude, it's insane. You should so go see her. One of the babies kicked today too. Did she tell you about some of the potential names?"

"I just told you I haven't spoken to her in three months, Tyler."

"Alright, well, the two she told me about were Elle and William."

"Funny. That's my middle name."

"I'm aware. I feel like that's why she has that up as a potential."

"Why Elle, though?"

"She told me she's been listening to Eleanor Rigby a lot, and that Eleanor sounded way too formal and kind of nerdy."

"Hm... In my opinion, Eleanor sounds better."

"Listen--at least she's a dyke and not a fag, because you _know_ some nelly queen would've named the girl Liza or Barbra."

Josh blanks for a few seconds before having to put his hands on his face, since he's laughing. "Jesus. You're right."


	15. Chapter 15

Hello! I hope I'm not disappointing anyone too much, but I marked this fic as complete because I'm rewriting it, since I'm not, like, overly pleased with where the plot is. I have published what I have rewritten at the moment in another fic called Pacific Daydream (which is absolutely named after the album by Weezer) and that fic is where any subsequent updates will go! :)


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